


Ideals of the Young and Faithful

by MistressAkira



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Aka me, Angst, Character Study, Characters Writing Fanfiction, Denial of Feelings, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Horse Shenanigans, Introspection, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Pining, Relationship Study, Romantic Comedy, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, aka Genny, comedy with a ? because I'm not funny, coming to terms with stuff, expansion of backstory, home sickness, it'll happen more than once folks, some real shady stuff, the members of Celica's party actually all talk to each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-20 16:15:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 44,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11338923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressAkira/pseuds/MistressAkira
Summary: "I don't usually care, but-""You've said that before, right? That you normally don't give a damn what people think about you. What's different, then? What's different about me?"---They're not friends. They do not want to be friends. But as they become closer with the other members of Celica's party, they might end up being anyways. And then maybe more.Leon, Kamui, and the single friendship that did what countless failed loves could not.(UPDATES ARE SLOW BUT THEY ARE FORTHCOMING)





	1. Well If It Isn't You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the short time he had traveled with them, Kamui had gotten a good handle on what kind of person Valbar was. 
> 
> His chosen companion, however…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the hell even is this pairing.
> 
> I’ll be honest, I don’t get the point of their supports. The fact Leon, out of all three of them, and not Valbar has a conversation with Kamui is surprising to me, especially when there is no definite connection between them- and a conversation where nothing in particular happens or is realized. But to hell if I won’t read into it beyond what is acceptable. 
> 
> The short form is an odd friendship that neither of them wanted nor expected, but found when they could speak honestly around each other, had the potential for becoming something more. Not to mention, I just want Leon to be happy. Unrequited love, even diluted down to close friendship, is a horrible feeling, and clinging onto Valbar the rest of his life would be a very sad end indeed.
> 
> Buckle up kids. This shit show ain’t stopping for anyone.

“Well, if it isn’t Leon.”

The archer turned at hearing his name, elegant eyes narrowing upon realizing whom had spoken it. “Mmm. If it isn’t Kamui.” Leon articulated the name as if he was balling it up in his mouth, preparing to spit it out.

In the short time he had traveled with them, Kamui had gotten a good handle on what kind of person Valbar was. Kind, brave, good-natured, a little squishy emotionally, but an all-around good man.

His chosen companion, however…

“I normally don’t give a tinker’s damn about what folks think of me, but ouch." He waggled his eyebrows playfully. Leaning into the jab, "I mean, I’m hardly chopped liver here.”

Leon rolled his eyes. A warm sea breeze blew in from the nearby beach, whipping Leon’s long hair up in its gale. However, he seemed more bothered by the conversation than it as he tucked a strand of hair back behind his ear. He decidedly leaned _away._ “Sooo what… you want me to hit on you, or something?”

Of all the possible responses that had flickered through Kamui's head to the playful jest, that wasn't the one he figured it would be. He frowned. “No, that’s not what-“

“Because you’re not really my type.” Leon’s voice was unforgiving, as piercing as his arrows.

“I said-“

“And you are only a percent of a percent of the man that Valbar is.”

The words were final, the discussion ending like most interactions involving a bow and arrow do: someone getting shot.

Still, the conversation had gone sideways faster than he had planned for. Kamui was honestly impressed. But it didn't help him hold back the sigh, unable to hide his wince. “Isn’t that overstating it a little?”

Leon chuckled at that, his answer to turn away with smirk and a dismissive flick of the hand, sauntering back off into the thick of battle without a backward glance.  _Sauntering_ was the only word to describe it- he didn’t walk too fast, and swung his hips a little too much. Kamui’s hand rarely left his blade during a fight, but this time it did and went to the back of his neck with another heavy sigh.

He didn’t know what he was expecting.

He also didn’t know what had driven him to speak to the archer when they crossed paths on the battlefield that day. The three of them- Kamui, Leon, and Valbar- had a tendency end up fighting beside one another, though in one case it was probably intentional, one case it was not, and one didn’t happen to care; but this time, something had provoked Kamui into acknowledging Leon.

Nothing had really changed between them in the three weeks they’d been traveling together. To most other people, Leon was a pretty upbeat person (even if he ran his mouth too much), but to Kamui he’d greeted him with nothing but shuddering cold indifference.

And well… it just didn’t sit right with him being so expressly disliked- especially if it was his employer’s right-hand man. In his own opinion, Kamui thought he was a fairly relaxed guy, and as long as he got paid, he wasn’t planning on causing any trouble.

Traveling with a priestess just became a new footnote in his travels, and Valbar was so dedicated to helping her cause, he’d even extended Kamui’s contract to cover the extra time. The pay was fair, and the added company was good. Really, it had been a win-win situation thus this far-

“INCOMING!”

Celica’s voice rang out over the beach, and Kamui snapped back to attention. A dark shape passed overhead, large enough to eclipse the sun, and he remembered with a vivid clarity that this current situation _was not_ win-win.

“IT’S DIVING! BRACE YOURSELVES!”

Far from it.

All around him, bodies hit the sand as the members of Celica’s party flung themselves to the ground as a roar rose up overhead. Kamui himself hit the deck at the last possible second, barely skirting the crush of fetid claws as the decaying beast swooped in.

 _Yes_ … this was why he had struck up a conversation with Leon, _today of all days_ , Kamui ascertained with sudden clarity and an eyeful of sand. To keep from remembering the very reason they had decided to visit the Mila-forsaken Seabound Shrine…

Necrodragons… they just _had_ to go after the necrodragons.

The shadow passed over him without a scratch, and Kamui was hauling himself up on his feet the moment after- anything to keep from getting caught by the beast unawares. All around him, Celica’s entourage were picking themselves up, gathering their things from the sand and getting their bearings.

The damned beast was blessedly nowhere in sight. In fact, the beach was so quiet, it seemed like the monster had disappeared altogether.

The din of battle ceased, Celica squinted at the sky while her bodyguard sheathed his sword with a grimace. The pink-haired mage girl stretched while her nervous, fidgety friend babbled, and Valbar leaned against a tree, dumping sand out of his boot.

The sudden lack of the previous chaos was startling. Kamui ran a hand through his hair, opposite hand still clutched around the pommel of his sword, though it was beginning to relax from the death grip he’d had on it since they got within sight of the island.

Rubbing a hand over the back of his head, Kamui proudly stated,“Well that wasn’t so ba-“

A hurling shape, riotous in the air before slamming down right behind him, the sickly stench of rotting flesh and ancient air humid on his neck. The careen of the visceral, feral song of dragon coo threaded the air like a needle, piercing everything and holding Kamui in place with the stubbornness of one scared beyond conscious comprehension.

He turned around. Things were suddenly _quite_ bad.

“Move it!”

A leg kicked him in the shoulder, and sent Kamui sprawling, followed by the telltale whistle of an arrow sailing directly over his head.

“Get lost!”

The resounding screech of the necrodragon seemed to shatter the air as the arrow found its mark in the exposed throat of the beast. Hundreds of pounds of undead flesh crumbled under their own weight without the fell magic holding it up, crashing to the ground a scant foot from Kamui’s sprawl and sending up a wave of sand.

Kamui immediately shrunk back as the body settled, limbs so shaky and despondent he succeeded in only rolling onto his back before they gave out again. One look into those dead reptilian eyes and he felt the very pressing need to faint.

Through the haze, a flash of purple crossed his peripheral vision, and he remembered the voice accompanied by the leg of the one who had saved him.

Leon. “Leon,” Kamui coughed, voice shot from fear and sand. He craned his neck to search for the archer, finding he wasn’t even looking in his direction. Typical. “Leon. Thanks for-“

Leon’s head whipped around, revealing an arrow notched in his bow and a scowl that could cut necrodragon hide all on its own. “Don’t thank me, you fool! Get your head out of the sand!”

A loud roar sounded in the distance, and Kamui’s blood ran cold.

“There’s another one, INCOMING!”

“Up and at ‘em.” Valbar’s bear-like grip had Kamui by the scarf, hauling him up and pounding his back in encouragement with a heavy hand in the same motion. He brandished his spear in the direction of the oncoming shadow, Leon tucking into his side with a smirk.

The archer glanced back, shooting a bemused look in Kamui’s direction, almost as if he was daring him to pick up his sword again.

And that look, that look was a million challenges and insults and insinuations all in one. Leon’s eyes glistened like Kamui had already failed them all. 

The mercenary grimaced. Then he picked up his sword, and stood to fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because fuck you there's two dragons on hard mode


	2. Sentiments and Misery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I’m a nice guy, but if you’re going to be an ass, you can forget it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone noticed how much Leon loves cheese? Like seriously, just give the kid all the cheese. He loves it. And yogurt. I really like how with the food system all the characters have different foods they like more than others. Nice touch IS.
> 
> Also, I have the headcannon that Leon loves romance novels. Fight me.
> 
> Also ALSO, I’m sorry for the slow start so far; I know there hasn’t been a lot happening yet, but it will be picking up soon, promise! When I wrote the first chapter, it was just something I kinda threw out there without too much thought on what kind of story I wanted to tell, but now I’ve got a good direction and an outline of future chapters, so rest assured, things will get better.

With the Seabound shrine free of necrodragons, and the crypt within looted to contentment (Celica had some reservations over raiding a fellow priestess’s tomb, but desperate times called for desperate measures; Kamui was more curious on how much the sword would go for), they set sail once again for Zofia Harbor. Kamui saluted the island as they sailed away, cursing cheerfully under his breath the entire time.

They were under way about two days now, the time starting to blend together with the monotonous routine of life aboard a ship. The old man’s crew did a good chunk of the work, but there was still plenty to go around for Celica’s entourage as well. They all pulled their weight, Kamui included.

Except for the one member who didn’t. Leon had been a mess since they’d first stepped on board about a week ago, laid up in his cabin below decks with sea sickness and completely useless just about every other day.

Kamui thought that was pretty pathetic; he shouldn’t have been surprised, with how horribly Leon had taken the ride to Barth’s keep, but after three collective weeks at sea he thought the kid would’ve gotten over it.

What else, whenever he was feeling well enough to help above decks, Leon and his pale ass almost always got sunburned within an inch of his life. Though it made his already grating personality even more insufferable, Leon would normally be regulated back to below decks work and out of spitting distance of the good folks above.

Today was one of those days. Kamui had to poke around a bit, but he eventually sussed out where the archer was holed up. And now, abundantly aware he was probably doing the equivalent of kicking a hornet’s nest, he stood before Leon’s cabin and knocked on the door.

“What.” Came the voice from within.

Neglecting to answer, Kamui pushed open the door and shuffled into the room. Leon was stretched out on one of the cabin’s low bunks, propped up on an elbow and reading a novel. The two beds shoved against the opposing walls of the room made for a tight fit and next to no standing space, the ever-present sick bucket at Leon’s bedside taking up most of what little there was.

The archer’s gaze flitted up from his book when Kamui entered, raising an eyebrow as he tried to situate himself in the tight space. Sticking a finger between the pages to mark his place, Leon regarded him with thinly veiled distaste.

“What can I do for you Kamui? It must be incredibly important to disturb a sick man about it.”

The flash of Leon’s white teeth as he snapped made the red of his skin stand out all the more painfully. His latest sunburn was already starting to peel in some places, giving him the appearance of a snake shedding its skin. Kamui thought it an apt comparison.

“Look, I don’t want to be here any more than you want me to be, but listen for a minute, would you?”

“Fine. Not like I have anything better to do.” Leon sighed, glancing disdainfully at his book. “Not with these two idiots continuing to deny their feelings for each other, even after he’s saved her from pirates and she’s saved him from getting executed- because _of course_ they’re just doing it for their own interests. _Love_ isn’t a reason at aaallll-“

“Yeah, okay.” Kamui ran a hand through his hair. “The other day, you really saved my skin with that necrodragon. I hate being in debt to anyone, so if there’s anything I can do for you, just let me know. If it’s within my means, I’ll do it, free of charge.”

A savage grin crept across Leon’s face. “So if I asked you to-“

“Or don’t. I’m a nice guy, but if you’re going to be an ass, you can forget it.”

Leon snorted. It was an indignant noise that at once seemed both strange coming out of such a delicate person and perfectly suited to him. “Relax. If you’re offering, I’m going to make it easy for you.” He leaned over the edge of the bed, digging around for a moment before producing a notebook with a quill and ink. “When we hit port next, I want you to pick up these items for me. With your own silver, of course.”

He jotted down a list, and Kamui took it, giving the scribbles a cursory glance. Leon’s handwriting was surprisingly messy. “… cheese. This is all cheese. Why are you asking for cheese when you’re seasick?”

Leon waved a hand dismissively, settling back in with his book. “What goes inside me is my own business. Besides, after all the hard bread and gruel, I think I’m entitled to something with a flavor other than bland and dry.”

Kamui pocketed the list, and shrugged. “Whatever. You got it.”

Leon licked his finger, turning a page. “Good. Now get out.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.”

* * *

 The moment they docked in Zofia harbor, it was a mass exodus of the ship. After a collective five weeks at sea, everyone was ready for the stability and freedom of solid land.

Celica and her crew had business to attend to, leaving the rest of them to their own devices; the other mercenary- Saber- made straight for the nearest tavern, and Genny, the cleric traveling with Celica from Novis, attached herself to Valbar’s side with an epoch’s worth of questions. Leon was the only one who stayed aboard, allowing Kamui the pleasure of his own singular company for the first time since signing on with Valbar back in Flostym.

The temptation to run off and enjoy the spoils of land without having to worry about keeping his boss’s head in place was enticing, but Kamui begrudgingly decided he could suck it up for a little while longer while he ran Leon’s errand. The list was short enough, and after a few stops, he was back on the ship, two pounds of assorted cheese gained and twenty silver lost.

He found Leon in the galley, back to reading his book. Kamui dropped the sack of goods on the table, visibly startling him from his reading.

The archer’s gaze fell on the bag and he blinked, a moment later a small smirk wedging itself in his mouth. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise.”

Kamui crossed his arms. “I said I’d do it.”

“Yes, you did,” Leon undid the drawstring on the bag, checking the contents, “But can you blame me if I didn’t honestly believe you would do anything if there wasn’t a payout in it for you? What with how you always go on about how you’re only in it for the money.” The barb and intent of his words were obvious, the accompanying grin far too smug for a man proven wrong.

“It doesn’t really matter now, does it? I did what you asked, debt settled.”

Leon was still grinning as he picked off a hunk of cheese from one of the wheels and ate it. “Mmmmmmmm, yes, I’d say this makes us fair.” He took another bite from a different block, the smile on his face now one of contented bliss rather than capricious smugness. “Oh yes, this was well worth it.”

He began to stuff his face, and despite the bright pink of his healing sunburn and the general unkept appearance he’d been sporting since being sick, it was the happiest Kamui had ever seen Leon. It was an odd realization.

“You’re welcome, by the way.” Kamui readjusted his scarf and made to go.

“Thank you~ very much.” Leon spoke between mouthfuls of cheese. “Mmmmmm, maybe I should save your life more often. If this is the treatment I get, it wouldn’t be horrible to have you up to your neck in favors for me.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Leon covered his mouth as he laughed. “Wouldn’t you?”

Kamui found himself chuckling, “You wish,” the response earning another snort from Leon.

The archer content to go back to his cheese, Kamui took it as his cue to leave. Back topside, he took a moment to decide what to do with his freedom, settling on grabbing some grub of his own.

A trip to a street vendor and a stop by a tavern, and Kamui was back at the docks; two meat pies, a bottle of ale, and the stars for company. He slouched atop a stack of crates and spread out his meal across the nearest one, a meat pie in one hand and the bottle in the other. He watched the stars, mesmerized at how they looked so different in the city. Without taking his gaze from their yellow haze, he took a bite of his pie- and was surprised at how bland it was.

It felt mealy going down, but it was warm on this chilly Avistym night, just as the stars were still bright despite their haze, and Kamui didn’t really mind. Once upon a time, these same stars guided his family as they herded their livestock across a distant continent, feeding themselves and their clansmen with their meat and keeping them warm with their hides. The very scarf Kamui pulled closer to himself to dull the cold was made from the wool of his family’s sheep, an article of clothing nearly as old as the mercenary himself.

The thump of boots nearby took Kamui from his thoughts, his attention drifting downwards to where Celica appeared from behind another stack of crates. She was alone, her morose gaze fixated on the air in front of her like she was in deep thought.

She must have felt Kamui’s eyes on her, glancing up as she passed by. A kind smile overtook her somber expression, and she waved. “Good evening, Kamui. How are you fairing?”

Kamui returned her smile, lifting the hand holding his bottle in greeting. “Heya, priestess Celica. I’m doing just fine, finally off that boat.”

“That’s a wonderful thing to hear. I’m sure we’re all feeling the same,” she sighed a small, good-natured sigh. “I know I am.”

Kamui nodded, content to leave it there, but instead of wandering off, Celica drew closer to his crate stack, settling on one of the lower ones. “If it’s not too much to ask, I’d like to sit with you for a little while. I’ve been trying to get to know all of my new comrades, and I’m sorry I haven’t made time for you yet. So, if you’ll let me, I’d like to chat a bit.”

He paused a moment pondering her offer, eventually taking a swig of his ale and shrugging. No matter how nice the solitude was, it was pointless if he just spent it thinking about old things.

“Whatever you want, priestess.”

“Thank you.”

Celica had fallen silent without saying anything else, her eyes drifting to join his on the stars, so Kamui took it upon himself to start. “So, working hard today too? Me, I don't want to work if I'm not getting paid for it. But you're going to Mila's shrine even though no one's asked you to, right?”

There was a beat of silence as Celica considered his question. “I suppose. But it’s less like someone asked me to, and more like it’s Mila’s will. There’s something I must do, and I will accomplish it.” She let out a breath of a laugh. “In fact, it was somewhat the opposite, I had people asking me _not_ to go. But I knew I had to."

“I don't really get it, but priests must have it tough.” Kamui regarded the stars, thinking of all the paths he had tread underneath them, all the places they had led him and all the places they had not. “I wonder, is god really that important?”

“I think like all things, it just depends on the person. But yes, to me, she is that important.”

Kamui chuckled, downing another swig of his ale. “You sure do care an awful lot, don’t you priestess?”

There was a smile in Celica’s voice as she answered. “I do. I know this is my pilgrimage, but to have found all of you- willing to go by my side when you owe me nothing- how can I not?” The box she was resting on creaked as she settled in, tucking her legs underneath her and relaxing against the stack. “Don’t you care, too?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The exchange between K and Celica at the end is based off his base/village conversation. I plan on incorporating those too.


	3. What Is Required

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nearly ten years they’d known each other, nearly ten years Leon had held on to these feelings faithfully, and Valbar still seemed to pass it off as an adolescent crush born of kindness.
> 
> One would think after meeting someone with a history of only liking men, they would continue only liking men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, chapter three, the first one from Leon’s perspective! There isn’t really a set order/pattern to the changes of the POV, but is more situational based.

The short respite they’d taken in Zofia harbor hadn’t nearly been long enough. But Leon supposed sacred pilgrimages waited for no one, and packed his bags with no complaint, bidding farewell to sea travel for what he prayed for was the rest of his life.

However instead of booking it north, towards the Mila Temple, Celica had deigned to make a detour towards the capital city with the specific destination of Zofia castle of all things.

And though it should make him more nervous than he actually was, Leon could not deny it- he was worried. He and Valbar hadn’t been back to the city since they’d up and deserted several weeks ago to find Barth, back when the capital was still a disaster from the Chancellor’s coup. Desertion wasn’t exactly smiled upon in normal circumstances, much less after the entire government has been flipped on its head.

Leon didn’t regret his decision in the slightest, and would’ve told his commanding officers to shove it where the sun didn’t shine if they still had heads to hear it, but two missing soldiers strolling into a city under enemy control still wearing their army-issued uniforms wasn’t going to make for a good time for anyone.

He was wondering how in any world this was going to work out, but knew if nothing else he would happily go down with Valbar for desertion if required. Leon just really hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Celica’s entourage had been back on solid ground for about two weeks, and they were a few days out from the capital when bandits set upon them. The pack was small, and the fight amounted to little more than a skirmish of bumping knees and elbows.

Leon had been hanging back, more bored than anything, when he spotted Valbar across the battlefield doing largely the same thing. Though he’d been avoiding the topic, Leon knew bringing up their return to the capital was something they needed to plan for if they wanted to keep all their parts attached.

With a skip in his step, the archer approached the knight and patted him fondly on the pauldron. “How goes it, old friend?”

Valbar returned the gesture, clapping Leon on the back with a smile. “Pretty good Leon, how about you?”

“Oh you know me- I’m always at 110% when you’re around.” The heavy warmth of his companion’s hand radiated through Leon’s back, the comforting sensation familiar yet still resounding enough to make his toes curl in delight.

“Ha ha ha! I’m counting on it.” Valbar’s laugh circulated the feeling to Leon’s fingers, the warm tingle pleasant against the cold, ungiving form of his armor.

It was silly, but even after all these years Leon could still feel this fluttery around him.

Valbar cleared his throat with an inquisitive sound, and Leon was drawn back from his thoughts. “Still, truth be told, I’ve been thinking about something…”

“Oh?” Leon replied, removing his hand from Valbar’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around himself. 

“You’re a rather handsome devil and more than good in a fight. If you could just keep your mouth shut, I bet the ladies would flock to you!” Valbar laughed with a hearty smile.

Leon was shocked at the words out of his mouth. “What are you going on about?” He all but snapped before he could stop himself. It was not the first time Valbar had called him handsome, but the compliment that always made Leon's heart swell now seemed so backhanded when followed by this. 

"And what in Mila’s name do I want with a whole flock of women? Fighting at your side is more than enough for me- I require no other distractions.”

Other distractions that would mean nothing to Leon, especially when he had just given up the entire life he'd made from himself in the army for Valbar. He was hurt at the very insinuation, even when he had made the choice to throw away his old life himself.

Valbar seemed set aback at the bite in Leon’s tone. “Y-yeah? Uh, well, thanks.” He paused for a moment, face pensive before breaking back out into a small smile. “That’s actually pretty flattering, I suppose.”

Leon hadn't realized how sharp he'd been, but at Valbar's smile, a surge of relief filled him from toes to fingers; all was forgiven. He returned Valbar’s smile with a triumphant grin, and Leon was sure it was a moment worthy of a romance novel before a bandit dove between them in a surprise attack. The two pulled apart immediately, Leon drawing back to notch an arrow as Valbar pulled up his shield to defend.

The bandit went down after a few stabs of a lance and a well-placed arrow to the neck, but Valbar was back in tune to the fight and ran to join the fray the minute the body hit the ground. Leon watched him as he charged away, the shiny bronze of his armor casting the archer’s reflection back at him, a slim form of purple growing smaller the farther Valbar grew away.

It was then he realized he hadn’t brought up their return to the capital at all. Leon sighed, running a hand through his hair in defeat. He’d gotten all swept up in what Valbar had been saying and completely forgot about the more important matters.

Part of him wasn’t surprised; he always saw it as affirmation of his feelings when Leon got all fuzzy over Valbar when he talked and laughed with him, and as such there was nothing wrong with it. Another part of him was more annoyed that that fuzziness had gotten in the way of hopefully keeping them alive. And then there was the unflatteringly large portion of himself that was just frustrated Valbar had the gall to talk about  _women_ with him. Especially if that meant Leon  _leaving_ Valbar for one.

His feelings had never been kept a secret from Valbar, though -bless the man- he’d never made a big deal over Leon’s unorthodox affections, he never seemed to grasp the true depth of them either. Nearly ten years they’d known each other, nearly ten years Leon had held on to these feelings faithfully, and Valbar still seemed to pass it off as an adolescent crush born of kindness.

What was more, Valbar knew of the circumstances that had caused his kindness to become such a pillar of Leon’s life: the boy Leon had loved since childhood dying in their first real fight as soldiers.

One would  _think_ after meeting someone with a history of only liking men, they would  _continue_ only liking men.

Leon shook his head, snorting to himself. What was the most eloquent way of telling someone (another man that you’re in love with no less) that you’ve never had natural thoughts about a woman in your entire life?

The hard clash of weapons suddenly ceased as the last bandit fell to the earth, and Leon’s attention was drawn outwards. His comrades were dusting themselves off, picking up what was useful from the dead as Genny healed the bumps and bruised of battle. A moment later, Celica was calling for them to leave, making motion for the path beyond.

“Leon! Come on!”

Valbar’s hearty voiced called out to the archer. He had found Kamui, the two of them waiting at the back of the pack for their third companion to join them.

Valbar wasn't going to leave without him. Leon would never leave him as long as he had the choice not to. He readjusted his arrow cache, thoughts pushed aside and skip back in his step as he ran to join them.

“Coming!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p.s. Leon talks about going back to the city after the chancellor's coup, and still thinks it's under his control because he just wasn't told any different. Celica and co. know about the Deliverance taking over, but her decision to go see Alm is somewhat of an emotional spur-of-the-moment sort of thing, and she sort of just takes off to go see him, with her merry band in tow. I don't think it would be unsurprising that she wouldn't have told Valbar and co. about the specifics of her detour, when supposing how many secrets she keeps from her entire group.


	4. The Faithless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What about the rest of you? You all good god-fearing men?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an interesting chapter to write, as from the very title of the fic there’s a bit to be had on the topic of faith. Echoes is a game about the end of the age of gods and the beginning of the age of men, about finding one’s self outside of what they’ve always known. This is especially an interesting concept considering the world of Valencia HAS REAL GODS (even if they’re basically just very strong manaketes), so the idea of moving on from something as tangible as that is hard.
> 
> The ‘other’ characters of Celica’s party- the ones that did not come from Novis with her- are never really given a chance to speak their opinions on religion and faith in this world of real gods, and I thought it’d be interesting to write about- about faith and the faithless, and how whichever you believe speaks a lot about a person, in more ways than just worship.
> 
> gomen I decided to dump the heavy stuff on y’all when it’s only the fourth chapter aaaaaa

 “Where’s Celica and the God Squad?”

It was another night in early Avistym, which meant it was cold, and that it was going to be cold for a while longer before the temperate warmth of the day seeped into the night. Kamui had his scarf pulled all the way up to his ears. It made it hard to drink soup, but it was worth it.

He settled himself against the toppled log that had become a makeshift bench for the presently remaining members of their group- Saber, Valbar, and Leon-, one hand balanced on the ground as he situated himself. The near-overflowing cup of soup in his hand sloshed as he jostled, the hot liquid dripping and stinging his cold skin.

The potent chill of the evening made the warmth of the fire all the better, the four of them left at camp huddling around it closely, all with hot mugs of soup in hand. The only beacon of comfort for miles, and they were missing the other four members of their party.

“They found an old shrine nearby. All went off to pray.” Valbar rumbled his reply from within his own cup. He was still dressed in full armor to combat the cold, taking up most of the space on the log.

Finding a shrine this close to the capital city wasn’t surprising. They were less than a day away now, and had started coming across the small villages that tended to congregate just outside of large cities. With the location of their Lady Leader revealed, Kamui gave a silent nod of recognition, throwing an arm around the back of the log and sipping his soup. His hand grazed Leon’s calf on accident, the archer shooting him a dirty look.

Leon was on Valbar’s right, closest to Kamui, legs crossed and taking up what remained of the log on his side. With Saber on the stump across from them, that had left Kamui with no space to sit but on the ground. Leon had outright sneered when he chose to sit so close.

A beat of silence passed after Valbar’s reply, filled only with the sound of the fire crackling and Saber sharpening his sword before the knight spoke again. “Yeah, I’ll probably head there myself in the morning.” He sighed, bringing his cup to his lips and drinking deeply. “What about the rest of you? You all good god-fearing men?”

“I used to be.” Kamui answered, his voice echoing from within his cup where he rested his chin. “My entire family was. The sort of life we used to live- real dependent on the land for our livelihood and whatnot- we had to be.”

He thought to the plains that had held up the very fabric his world for so many years. Praying for rain, for a good breeding season, for healthy babies and painless deaths, there was a lot out of their control that they had to just hope would work out in their favor.

Looking back on it, it was no way to live. Kamui took a swig of soup, finishing his thought. “Well, after a lot of bad luck, I sort of just lost my faith. My gods were a pretty different from your Mila though. A lot less substance- more wishful thinking.”

“I also grew up with… uh, some different practices.” Saber chuckled, smile wry as he oiled his sword. “Never been much of a religious man. Won’t fill my belly or warm my bed, so I’ve yet to find a use for it.”

“My folks were always real strict about it.” Valbar chimed in, a faraway smile on his face as he did. “The real churchgoing sort. My brother, my sister, and me, they used to drag us all to sermons when we were kids... Every week, like clockwork.”

He stopped, deep in thought; he took a deep breath before continuing, “To me though, faith’s always been a more personal thing. I pray, but I prefer to do it on my own.” Valbar shrugged, whole body of armor moving with him. “Don’t make me any less of a believer. I just think my deal with Mila is for me and her only.”

Leon was the only one who had not spoken, the other three men’s gazes drawing unanimously to him when he did not speak up. The archer had been watching Valbar intently as he spoke, a surprised look on his face when he realized all eyes were on him. He resituated himself, uncrossing his legs and then re-crossing them, fidgeting like it was an excuse to not speak.

Kamui used the hand hung over the log to poke Leon encouragingly in the side. He jolted, face bitter before resignation staked its claim.

“I suppose…I pray just to make myself feel better. I mean, I do pray for certain people. For them to be safe, or to be at peace.” He brought a hand to his chin, resting it there with his elbow on his knee. “I know it probably doesn’t mean anything, since I’m not really that devout, but it still gives me hope. Makes me feel like I’m doing something worthwhile.”

Silence rallied again, their gazes wandering without a point of shared interest. Saber watched the fire, and Valbar watched his friend; Leon watched nothing, a faraway look on his face filled with a sorrow so different from the joy and disdain Kamui had always seen him with.

“What do you think it’s supposed to be for?” Valbar eventually laughed, clapping his companion on the back, the loud boom of his voice shattering the solemnness of the moment. “Life’s full of heartache, and we gotta get through it the best we can. Even if that’s just saying a few words to make ya feel better.”

Leon snorted, hand still on his chin but a smile replacing the lonely look he had before. “You’re right. It’s what works for me, so I’m not going to change.”

“Amen.” Saber held up his cup in salute.

The other two followed suit and tossed back their soup in unison, but when Kamui made to follow, he found his cup was empty. He set it down, the light chatter of his companions the background to which he fell into thought.

It had been years since he’d set foot on Valentia, with its living gods and grand temples and dynamic faith. But he’d never paid it much thought. Kamui never cared to. Leon’s admission of his faith was refreshing, though as selfish as the rest of him, it lacked the shallowness that Kamui had come to expect. In a surprising way, he thought it reasonable.

In recent years, Kamui had been faithful to nothing but gold. He thought _that_ was reasonable. But that was the faith he had in things he could hold, could see- which here was the same as their Mila.

He sighed. Perhaps it was all the same in its own way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, Avistym is interpreted as Spring in this world. Flostym was Winter, and Pegastym is Summer.


	5. We're Past This Point, Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...There was something heavy and inquisitive that refused to relinquish its hold on Leon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> … not… my strongest chapter. Especially after how proud I was of the last chapter, but this was supposed to be a stepping stone to getting set up for other events going forward and…. well. I tried.

“Oh, you have got to be joking!”

The masked knight had warned them. Saber had insisted, even with Mae’s wariness for traps, and Celica assured that if they just remained vigilant, they would be fine.

“Look out! The cliff is crumbling!”

What Leon feared would be chaos- he and Valbar’s return to the capital after their unceremonious desertion- was nothing; they just sat in the grand hall of Zofia castle while Celica attended to business.

But this, the ground shaking and rocks plummeting from cliffs and the very sky seeming to fall apart, this was chaos.

“Everyone, be careful!” Came Celica’s command over the rumble of the earth, but it was pandemonium; the entire party had broken out into a run, slipping in mud, dodging rocks, dragging fallen companions to their feet or throwing them over shoulders and just sprinting madly for their lives.

Leon knew in the back of his mind that Valbar was probably going to be okay- all that armor, a few rocks weren’t going to do him in- but he still stuck to his side in the desperate sprint to get out of the ravine. All that protective armor, and Valbar was the slowest running because of it. They were at the very back of the pack, the rocks falling faster and heavier as the landslide seemed to come down quicker and angrier.

He couldn’t look. Leon just had his eyes trained forward as he ran. That’s how he never saw the rock fall.

The rock fell, plummeting to the earth and taking Leon with it. It smashed into his hip, pinning his leg to the ground when it landed. He could feel the way his leg gave way, the limb snapping and searing pain that shredded every thought in his mind following it. He screamed.

The pain was so great he barely registered Valbar’s hands on him, on his shoulders, on his face. “Leon! Leon, hang in there!” He called, his voice nearly drowned out by the roar of the quaking ground.

The walls seemed to be coming down even faster, the earth collapsing and rocks and dirt filling the sky. Another heavy lump fell, dinging off Valbar’s armor, but he ignored it as he pulled at the rock pinning Leon to the ground. He tossed it away as if it weighed nothing, cradling Leon to his chest once he was freed.

The pain in his leg shrunk to nothing, feeling Valbar’s arms around him. A heavy sensation of warmth and peace enveloped him, and Leon was spitting dirt and blood, but he leaned into his friend’s arms and had never felt safer.

“Kamui, get him out of here!”

Leon had been so caught up in fleeing, he’d never noticed Kamui still among them. An annoying tag-along, as usual. Leon had the split second to be pissed before the warmth of his closest friend’s embrace was taken away, and he was shoved into the mercenary’s arms. They pulled him close, longer and leaner than Valbar’s but held him just as tightly.

And it was then Leon knew what was happening. Kamui turned away, Leon crushed to his chest, and Valbar was still on the ground. Kamui began to run, dodging the plummeting debris with slick agility, leaving Valbar to take the brunt of the oncoming chaos by himself. Leaving him behind.

“NO! VALBAR!” Leon wailed. He fought against Kamui’s grip, but his leg couldn’t move and Kamui didn’t relent and no matter how hard he screamed and reached out for him, Valbar was disappearing and then he couldn’t see him anymore.

“NO! NO! STOP! WE HAVE TO GO BACK FOR HIM!” He clung to Kamui’s neck, eyes watching the world crumble behind him, unable to look away from the last place he’d seen his friend. “VALBAR! NO! VALBAAAAR!”

Leon’s vision was tunneling. Everything was a clash of light and dark, and he was seeing _it_ again. The loss of his love. Again. The agony that haunted him for years, the same thing Leon had seen in a million nightmares, twisted in horrible new ways and the terror it inspired old and dark.

Leon saw _his_ back when the lance had protruded through it, ending his life long before Leon’s scream.

Leon saw Valbar being crushed and dying alone, and he was unable to do anything because he hadn’t been strong enough.

He couldn’t stop seeing it. He couldn’t stop screaming it the entire way out of the ravine.

The sun was so damnably bright without the clouds of dust and dirt to block it, and Leon barely registered it through the sand and tears in his eyes. He dimly recognized the shapes of his other comrades, but the world had deteriorated to shapes and colors, not the blur of panic stricken fleeing but the clouded and frayed corners of a universe dissolving through tears. It hurt to open his eyes, for fear of what me might see. His voice, when his throat could open, came out as heartbreak.

The voices, the bodies milling about- they didn’t matter and Leon barely paid them any mind as he had nothing to do but sob viciously into the hired sword’s shoulder. He hated the way he was forced to cling to Kamui’s form, the only solid thing within reach that could hold him, but he clung and sobbed and didn’t bat away Kamui’s clumsy hands because nothing mattered.

No, nothing mattered, because Valbar was gone, and it hurt, it hurt in too familiar ways, unfair and-

A cough. A grunt.

Another cough. Leon opened his eyes. The colors ran together, but how could he ever forget that face.

Valbar. Dusty, scraped up, grim-faced and alive.

The figure that was Valbar coughed again, following it with a deep throated swear. Leon wiped his eyes clear, desperate to see.

“Val…Valb-“ He couldn’t get the word out. The archer’s throat closed. He’d watched him die.

Valbar leaned down from his impressive height, holding tight to Leon’s shoulder as if it were the only thing tethering him to the world. His smile, weary but bright. “Heya.”

The simple greeting nearly sent Leon back into tears. “Valbar… you’re alive… I…”

“Yeah, yeah, it’ll take more than a few pebbles to take me out.” The knight squeezed his companion’s shoulder, voice soft and solemn and eyes conflicted. “You don’t gotta worry about me… I ain’t leaving you any time soon.”

The sun was no less bright, but the light was suddenly pleasant. The world was shapes and colors, but Valbar was in focus. Leon wanted to kiss the sky. He wanted to kiss Valbar. He wanted to shoot the clouds out of the sky. He wanted to punch Valbar. He wanted to kiss Valbar.

He wanted to kiss Valbar.

He settled for fainting.

* * *

 

When Leon awoke, it was in a tent wrapped in darkness, a single candle illuminating his sight. He was lying in his cot, the candle set upon the stack of books kept by his bedside for late night reading. And just beyond the ring of light, was Valbar.

He had doffed his armor, clad only in the military-issue woolen black underclothes they both wore under their uniforms. His thick hair, usually hidden under his helmet, was longer than Leon remembered.

Leon shifted to sit up, but was struck by the sudden pain of lightheadedness. He winced, and Valbar’s head snapped up.

“Leon. You okay?”

Leon pressed a hand to the bridge of his nose, trying to focus his vision. “I’m something.” The shape of his hand blocked Valbar from view, and as his gaze wandered it landed on another form, this one hunkered down by the tent entrance.

A black wave of hair nestled in a yellow scarf that Leon remembered with vivid clarity smelled like hay. Kamui. He appeared to be sleeping.

Valbar followed his gaze to the sleeping mercenary. “Yeah, he dozed off over there. Didn’t have the heart to move ‘im.” Leon wanted to protest but found himself too tired to. “After you fainted, Genny just kinda shoved us all in your tent. Healed ya first, then saw to us. He passed out right away, but I wanted to stick around for when you woke up.”

The sentiment melted Leon’s heart, and he forgot all about the mercenary. “Valbar… I’m speechless. If you were hurt, you should have been resting!”

“Nah. In my mind, I owe you anyways for putting you through that.”

“Never! No one makes me do anything I don’t want to- you know that.”

“Haha…Doesn’t make me feel any less guilty though.”

Valbar fell silent and Leon didn’t know how to reassure him further. He looked away, rubbing his bleary eyes with the back of his hand; even the subtlest of motions causing a cacophony of cracks and clicks from Leon’s tired body. His leg which had surely been broken now only bore a deep-seeded ache, something unpleasant but not wholly horrible. The archer continued stretching, and the knight still said nothing.

Eventually Leon folded his hands on top of his blanket, resting his chin on them. With a change of topic in mind, Valbar’s words from earlier -telling him that he wasn’t leaving Leon- had been nagging his heart. He had the feeling they weren’t entirely for him. “A question for you, old friend.”

“Shoot.” Valbar replied without blinking.

“You and me are past tiptoeing around this sort of thing, so…” With nothing in his voice but sincerity, Leon spoke of the words they hadn’t traded in weeks. “You lost your whole family, right?”

There was only a small hesitance before the knight sighed. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

Something unknown tightened within Leon’s chest. The memories dredged up from their near-death experience, they still stained the inside of his eyelids. While his loss had been horrible, the loss of Valbar’s entire family surely had been worse. “And yet you still fight for this world. That is quite impressive.”

They hardly spoke of it, but Leon knew Valbar had always loved his duty as a knight as much as he loved his family. There was never any question of having both in his life, but the knightly duties sometimes entailed more than the familial ones, and took him away from his home longer than normal. It had been just that sort of happenstance that had taken Valbar away when his family had been killed: Desaix’s coup.

And it was no one’s fault but the pirates, but Leon knew that guilt had to be eating him alive. Though he’d never bring up that sort of thing to hurt him, there was something heavy and inquisitive that refused to relinquish its hold on Leon. “Of course, you owe the priestess girl, but most men would give up regardless.”

The sorrow on Valbar’s face felt naked to look at. “Yeah, maybe so. I’ll admit, there are times when the pain’s so bad it leaves me numb. But that was because I was so damn happy when I was with ‘em.” He took a breath, and smiled. “It’s an even balance, you know? I got good enough for all the bad. Anyway, I avenged them, so there’s no point on hanging on to hate.”

Leon watched the man in the candlelight. Stripped of his armor, Valbar was no less of a knight. He was fighting back the guilt and sadness the best he could, and could still smile and care for others everyday just as he always had. He saved Leon and knew the depth of the promise he spoke, even when those words were probably better spent on ghosts in prayers of forgiveness.

It seemed like he never stopped learning things about this man.

“I’m impressed, Valbar…”

But what was this feeling in his chest?


	6. Going Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hell, if I got stuck on all the stuff I did or didn’t do, I’d never get out of bed in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aisjsjanssjaodnoaidn everyone’s been so nice with all the comments and kudos and even EIGHT BOOKMARKS you all are so wonderful aaahahhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
> 
> But seriously, thank you guys for all the support. We are only six chapters in, and the tremendous amount of love you guys have given this fic is incredible. I hope I continue to live up to your expectations, and make this the story you all deserve~
> 
> Also, sorry about the lack of update last week. I needed a little time off… but to make it up to you guys, double uploads this week! Look for the next one on Friday/Saturday!

The days following the landslide were tense. Between the masked knight’s warning and the ravine incident, everyone was on edge, Celica especially. She drove the group forward with single-minded focus, stopping only when they couldn’t go any further without sleep and looking over their shoulders the entire time they did; pushing ever onward at a terrific pace.

Morale was low, and even an outsider like Kamui could tell. The group was trying its best to keep itself together, but they were all wearing thin. And while Kamui usually minded his own business, he couldn’t help noticing how Leon was uncharacteristically keeping to himself. The archer had barely said a word the past few days, even to Valbar. The silence was nice, but the way he completely and utterly folded into himself was notable.

Two days after the incident, Kamui was still walking around with Leon’s blood on his clothes. There wasn’t a lot, spots on his shoulder and scattered across his torso and a bit on his scarf, but it was annoying, and he’d had no chance to wash it. Most of Celica’s entourage were in similar states, covered in dust and grime, sore and sweaty and exhausted but terrified of getting beset upon again.

Mercy was had on the third day though, where a river was found and camp was made while the sun was still out. While most of the group pitched their tents and promptly passed out, Kamui and a few others headed to the river to bathe and refill their water skins.

It crossed Kamui’s mind, as he shucked his dirt- and blood-laden clothing and took his first real bath in weeks, that Zofia really was in a devastating dry spell. He’d been on the continent four Flostyms, three of which had been spent in rapidly increasing drought. Water, like this river, and food had been increasingly hard to come by outside of cities. As someone who spent his life outside of cities for work, Kamui knew that better than anyone.

The thoughts were morose, but his innate pessimism was a blanket of apathy. And as Kamui dunked his head in the river, he wondered if this trip to Mila’s temple would really fix all the things Celica thought it would.

Eventually the sun began to slink behind the horizon, and Kamui knew he had to head back to camp; he was on guard duty tonight. His clothes, thoroughly scrubbed with vinegar and cold river water, were now clean and he threw them on, relishing the familiar tang of vinegar in place of blood. Winding his scarf around his neck, Kamui made for camp.

By the time he got back, the camp had already fallen under the lull of the night, the occasional snore or sigh from a tent a fair indicator of what most of Kamui’s comrades were doing. At first glance, it seemed like everyone had retired for the evening, but as Kamui grew closer to the center of camp, he found the fire still burning and a figure huddled by it.

“Oh. It’s you.” Leon muttered as a greeting.

“Yeah,” Kamui deadpanned, then, conversationally, “I’m the lucky sap on watch tonight.”

“What a coincidence, so am I.”

Leon left it at that, poking at the fire with a stick. Kamui took that as his excuse to sit, slouching down on the log opposite of the archer, several leagues and a roaring fire between them. Without much to do beside listen for impending death, Kamui unclasped his sword from his belt and went to cleaning it. Leon glanced up a few times, watching Kamui’s hands as he went about his chore, expression bored but body tense.

The squeak of oil and the scrape of whetstone made for an easy silence between the two. The night had little to contribute to the conversation beyond cricket song and the occasional hoot of an owl. In between swipes of the oilcloth on his blade, Kamui watched the stars- tracking their movements and estimating how much longer he’d have before the next watch was up and he could finally go to bed.

It would be a while.

At peace with his fate, Kamui went back to his task. Leon stood up to stretch, arrow cache and uniform buckles clinking together. He twisted, facing away from the fire, arms interlocked and stretched above his head. Then with a sigh he turned back inwards, but rather than sitting he took to pacing back and forth. Twirling every time he reached the end of the log, his buckles clanked together in an endless clatter with all the elegance of pots bashing together.

Leon paced awhile before widening his route to a complete circle around the fire. Clinking and clanging by for what seemed like forever, he effectively scared off all the wildlife in the area- and probably all the potential enemies too. Finally he stopped, plopping down on the log closest to Kamui’s.

“Sorry. That was probably annoying.” Leon apologized in a moment of almost offhand consideration.

Kamui was amused. “No more than usual.”

“Wow. Rude.”

The sounds of the night creeped back in, in place of Leon’s graceless clanging. Kamui finished oiling his sword, satisfied at the way the firelight gleamed off it. Now, again with nothing to do, his eyes wandered over to his watchmate. Leon’s face was bitter, and he had the distinct body posture of someone wanting to kick something.

Kamui knew better than to start a conversation with him. _Discussions ending like most interactions involving a bow and arrow do: someone getting shot._ But he was too bored not to try.

“…Something on your mind?”

“As if it matters to you.” Leon scoffed.

“Not really. But if we’re both stuck here until next shift, might as well get it off your chest.”

“Yeah, no thanks.”

A beat passed. Kamui knew he should have left it alone.

But he did not. “… You’ve just been quiet the last few days. That’s all.”

“In case you forgot, Valbar almost died. Of course I’d be choked up after that.” Leon snapped, aghast.

“Yeah.” Kamui shrugged. The thought hadn’t occurred to him. “I guess I should be more emotional about it, myself. Nearly lost my contract and all my pay!”

The look on Leon’s face was one of absolute revulsion. “Ugh. How do you sleep at night?”

“Usually after counting my money.”

The archer snorted in disgust, turning away. Kamui, content with himself, shifted his gaze back to the stars.

The night sky had peeled back bit by midnight bit to reveal previously hidden stars. Kamui traced the roads the new stars created with his eyes, and traced the pathes they'd once illuminated with his mind. 

“I’ve just been thinking a lot lately… about how Valbar lost his entire family.” Leon’s voice came from below.

Kamui’s gaze never wavered from the sky. “Yeah. That’s gotta be rough.”

A sigh. “… I never got a chance to meet them. His family- I mean, I never asked, but now I never will. They’re all gone… His mom, dad, brother, sister,” Leon’s voice, up until that point soft yet strong, suddenly hiccupped. “W-wife… son.”

That was enough to take Kamui’s eyes from the stars. Leon was staring at the ground, slender limbs wrapped around himself like knots.

“I… won’t ever get to meet his family. Meet the people… so important to him… he gave up his knighthood to avenge- that I gave up _my_ life to avenge.” The words sounded selfish, but beyond the bitter surface something was cracking. Leon’s head fell into his hands, voice like thinning ice. “I used to hate them, you know. I _wanted_ to hate them… for having a part of him I’d ever have. But I couldn’t. He loved them so much and I… wanted to love them too. I hate that part of myself that wanted to hate them but now I can’t bear to think that way now that they’re all gone.”

And then he flinched, like something had finally broken within him. “But I’m… so terrified of what Valbar might think of me if he ever knew that…” The archer’s shoulders began to tremble, but his sobbing was silent. Limbs constricted, balling up; an island unto himself, Leon’s tears dripped like the ice melting from within him.

“Hah. At least I’ll never have to look at his wife and think about how lucky she is.”

And in that moment, something clicked into place. Kamui knew it just as he knew the sky was blue and that vinegar was the best thing to get blood out of clothes.

Leon was in love with Valbar.

It’s both surprising and not how Kamui had never realized it before. But maybe it was more unsurprising why he _didn’t_. Kamui hadn’t cared beyond seeing this contract to the other side, alive; his interest in Leon went as far as making sure the archer didn’t hate him enough to get Valbar to fire him- and no further.

Hearing all this, though, made Kamui feel like he still had Leon’s blood on him. These words weren’t for him -he was just the one who ended up hearing them- but the pain, the drag of absolute dread in Leon’s voice wrenched Kamui’s own emotions to the surface. And shook off the mud and debris he had piled on top of them for years.

“You…You can’t just hold onto this. Thinking about all the things you didn’t do or missed out on…” Kamui winced. “…it’s just going to make you hate yourself. And then you’ll never be able to move forward beyond that.” He let out a seemingly inflectionless laugh. “Hell, if I got stuck on all the stuff I did or didn’t do, I’d never get out of bed in the morning.”

Leon’s smirk could cut steal, but he wasn’t crying anymore. “Gee, what a travesty a that would be.”

“What I’m saying is that you’ve gotta carry around the past with you your entire life… don’t make it heavier than it has to be.”

Kamui had stared directly at Leon as he delivered his final words. The archer had stared tersely back, the tears still frosting his eyelashes seemingly turned to crystal in the glow of the fire, posture like he was getting reprimanded.

For a moment, Kamui thought it was all lost on the archer. So with the caution of one baring their hand to a snake, he reached out, giving Leon’s shoulder a single squeeze.

Leon refroze instantly. “…what… are you doing?”

“Being supportive?” Kamui withdrew his hand, ready for the bite.

“Ugh, gross, stop. I’m fine now.” Leon waved his hands around like swatting away a bug, and Kamui instinctively flinched back. A moment later however, there was a grin on the archer’s face and a giggle in this throat. “Seriously, I’m fine.”

Leon’s laughter died down and a cold breeze slipped through the camp. Kamui folded his hands into his shirt to keep them warm. Leon, however, had unwound his death grip on himself, slender limbs bared to the brisk evening. His expression was thoughtful, and he wasn’t looking at anything in particular but rather seemed to speak to everything. “But, you know… thanks for letting me talk. This wasn’t awful.”

“Wow, are you actually being nice?”

Leon chuckled, his tone light. “Don’t get used to it.”

It was oddly gratifying.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, trying to make this sort of conversation come across as natural was hard. Yes, this is supposed to be a turning point in their relationship, a sort of kick-off of you will, but this conversation has roots in a canon facet of Leon’s personality: he is not the type to bottle up his feelings. Or rather, is completely incapable of bottling them up. He always speaks his mind, whatever he’s feeling, even when it’s kinda bitchy or hurtful. So even though I had to arrange the pieces just so, I do believe this sort of conversation would be plausible between Kamui and Leon.


	7. Stepping Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home… how long had it been since he’d had thought about that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s the promised double upload! I hope it was worth it to you guys! Imma try to get back to the regular uploads on Friday evenings (central standard time) after this~
> 
> But I suppose now would be a good time to break it to y’all that the ‘countless failed loves’ mentioned in the synopsis aren’t all Leon’s. Kamui’s failed loves: his past life, his family, his childhood, are all just as important and relevant to the story and the kind of person he’s become because of it.
> 
> Because as cool and careless as he plays it, our childhoods, the way we are raised, will always affect us and stay with us our entire lives. And we all love at least a part of it, even if we remember it with disdain now.
> 
> Hey, there’s also actual game plot in this chapter too.

The settlement was on the fringes of a mountain range, likely the same as the ravine, built somewhat at slant atop the hills rounding its base. Kamui hated mountains and liked walking up them even less, but the terrain was surprisingly agreeable and the walk to the entrance was hardly worth calling harrowing compared to what they’ve all been through the past few weeks.

A collective sigh of relief went through the entire party once they reached the village gates. A week and half of walking, fighting bandits (which included meeting two foreign Pegasus knights looking for their lost sister), and general monotony had left everyone a bit rougher for wear than they would’ve liked, and though Kamui wasn’t one to complain, he was getting sick of the cramped forest. The air was slightly cooler here on the mountain, but this was still Zofia, and it was still humid despite the elevation. Orange trees dappled everywhere, dropping blossoms and fruit on those below and perfuming the air with the kind of permanence that never came out of the clothes of the ones that lived there. It made Kamui nostalgic for the hay scent that used to follow his old nomad caravan the same way.

The group split ways once they entered the town proper, agreeing to meet back up at the local tavern later. Kamui set off to explore on his own, getting a wave and a bellow to be safe from Valbar and a hand raise from Leon as he departed.

 A few weeks ago he would’ve balked at that, but now it was just something he had to get used to again- others taking note of him and his wellbeing. And by others also including Leon. There had been no dramatic shift in their relationship overnight, but since their talk there had been a distinct lack of animosity in their interactions. Leon was even almost nice sometimes.

Strolling through the village, Kamui plucked oranges from the trees he passed, munching on them as he explored. The town was by no means large, but it had a few clusters of houses, an inn and tavern, general store, and even a smithy. There were also plenty of people out and about, and Kamui took the time to chat several up. They were the typical village sort, but they didn’t seem to mind Kamui’s orange thievery, and made for pleasant conversation. A certain name kept popping up, however, and the more the mercenary asked around, the more he found it seemed like everyone had a piece to say on it.

Greith. A pirate lord staked out in the desert, whom apparently had been organizing the whole lot of pirates and brigands Celica and the rest of them had been fighting off for weeks- including Barth.

Kamui filed that away to inform Valbar of later.

Eventually it was time to return to the tavern, and Kamui made his way back to the center of town. His rather large, colorfully odd group of traveling companions was easy to spot amongst the browns and grays of the village residents, standing in front of the modest inn and tavern with arms full of their spoils from the afternoon.

Even from a distance, Kamui could tell that they were all in higher spirits than they were earlier. More than a few of them now toted bags from the general store, holding new traveling threads or personal items, and others brandished shiny new weapons courtesy of the smithy, but most had arms of snacks and food in-hand, indulging after weeks of soup and dried meat. They traded bits and bites of their snacks with each other, chewing and gagging and laughing together.

“Friends,” came Celica’s call.

The group shifted, turning their gazes to the priestess- whom was not alone. What could only be described as a mountain of a man accompanied her, looming over her shoulder (and most of their party as well in height).

“This is Atlas.” she introduced. “He will be traveling with us for the time being. I’m sure many of you have heard of the travesties being committed by the man known as Greith, who has taken residence up in the citadel in the far east of the desert near here.” Her tone sharpened. “I know this is yet another detour, but I have decided I cannot let this abide any longer, and aim to seek out this man to put an end to his crimes. Atlas and I intend to do just this, but I understand if any of you do not wish to.”

There was a beat of silence, in which they all looked to each other. Kamui found himself meeting the eyes of Valbar, who simply shrugged. Without a single voice of dissent, they all seemed at peace with situation. It was Mae who eventually spoke up for them all.

“Celica, we will follow you anywhere. You should know that! We’ll all be happy to accompany you.” She asserted, followed by several nods and calls of assent from the group.

Kamui didn’t really have much of an opinion on the matter, since he was under contract with Valbar and was bound to follow him until they reached the temple, but there was a moment of warmth that unfurled within him when Celica’s smile blossomed.

“Thank you, everyone. It gives me such strength to have you all by my side.” She turned and gestured to the man mountain- Atlas. “Atlas has offered to shelter us at his house for the night before we set off tomorrow. We can go there now, if you all would like.”

They all agreed, setting off for Atlas’ house with all the clamor of before. His home was rather large compared to his neighbors’ and was made of wood rather than brick. The inside was similarly all wooden, open and spacious with two floors and a multitude of rooms. With four younger brothers, Atlas explained, they needed all the space.

Brothers, it turned out, that had been taken by Grieth. There was a collective group silence after mention of that, however it was broken by the continuation of the tour. Kamui unexpectedly lingered, his thoughts turning to his own siblings, recalling the faces on a far away continent of those he hadn’t thought of in years.

The image doesn’t last, as next thing he knew, the tour was done and everyone was calling rooms for sleeping. Kamui got put in a large room downstairs, sharing with Boey and Valbar. Leon, surprisingly, called one of the upstairs bedrooms for himself (and only himself) and gave them all, Valbar included, a smug look as he climbed the stairs to stake him claim.

By the time they’ve all unpacked, the sun had gone down, and they set to dinner. There isn’t much food in the house, but there’s more than enough to go around with everyone’s contributions from town. They all gather in the common room with a huge fire roaring in the fireplace, trading food and stories with one another. The comfortable buzz of conversation fills in the gaps of the room, of which there aren’t many with how they’re all clustered together. Atlas takes up enough room for two people, but he’s surprisingly awkward in most conversations, preferring to sit and listen.

The laughter and relaxed lull, the warm space and ample company, wedged between Celica and Boey on the couch, Kamui found himself incredibly content with the atmosphere.

Sometime later, he slipped outside for some fresh air. With Pegastym now in full swing, the evenings were finally starting to become as warm as the days; unpleasant for some, but he’d always preferred warm weather to cold.

There was still a nice Flotstym breeze in the air however, and he was considering hopping up on the roof to feel it better, when a loud _crack_ came from the other side of the house. Hand on sword, he peered around the corner, only to find Atlas, chopping wood.

The villager’s gaze cast sideways, landing upon the mercenary. “Oh! Hello!” He greeted.

Kamui adjusted himself, letting go of his sword and reclining casually, like he hadn’t just been about to climb on the roof. “Heya.”

Atlas smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry, but I’m really bad with names. You were again…?”

“Kamui.”

“Oh, right. Sorry ‘bout that, Kamui.”

“It’s fine.”

Atlas nodded before turning back to his wood pile. “I hope I didn’t disturb anyone- the fire was getting low so I thought I’d chop some wood for it. ‘Sides… I was getting a little tangled up with all that talking in there.” He chuckled quietly.

“They’re a bunch, all right.”

“Yeah.”

_Chop!_

Atlas went back to his cutting. Kamui watched, suddenly much less interested in the roof. He decided he was curious about their new travel companion. “Your home is real nice by the way.”

“Right?” Atlas beamed with pride. “This mountain has everything I could ever want. Healthy trees, sunshine, clean air…”

 “I’ve always been more of a plains person myself. I like the space.”

Atlas chuckled before his face took on a darker shade. “I just need my brothers back, and everything will be right again…Then this mountain will all our homes again.” He half seemed to say it to his woodpile, rather than Kamui.

The mercenary crossed his arms. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. Siblings, right?” He joked, trying to lighten the mood

“You got some too?”

“Two sisters and a brother. Second of four.”

“It’s just me and my four brothers. No girls, my poor mom!” They shared a quiet chuckle at that. “But…” Atlas’ expression became soft. “I feel pretty lost without them. Being big brother has been my job for as long as I remember- well that and woodcutting- but being without them kinda feels like I’m missing a piece of me too.”

“What happened?”

 _Whack!_ Atlas split another wood chunk before answering. “I was off fighting on the frontier for a while. Everybody pushed me to go to war so I could get rich and famous. And sure, I wanted to provide a decent life for my little brothers… But my leaving home has made life harder for them, not easier. Made it harder for me too.” _Chop!_ “Because they’re my home as much as this mountain is.”

Kamui sat there a moment, the echo of Atlas’ chopping ringing in his ears, and let that sink in.

Home… how long had it been since he’d had thought about that? Home hadn’t been the plains in a long time, and it sure as hell hadn’t been the city. The word didn’t summon any particular place to mind, but it did summon particular people, and the old sting of guilt that followed.

But guilt was too precise of a word for how it felt after all these years- more like something that had been worn and washed for so long that now only bore a threadbare resemblance to what it once was. But what did make Kamui feel guilty was the thought of his siblings. He and his elder sister had spent their childhoods on the plains, unlike his younger brother and sister who had been born only a handful of years before they were forced to move. They had been close, closer through all the journeys of their youth- and they’d both struggled to acclimate to the city as bitter, angry teenagers.

The city Kamui had left nine years ago- how had they all grown up in that time? Were his sisters married? Did they all still live together- the whole clan- in those cramped city flats? Had they moved on with their lives, like he had?

Like he hadn’t?

The continued chopping of wood eventually shepherded Kamui from his thoughts. Atlas was absorbed in is task, like he hadn’t expected anything further from the mercenary.

It felt wrong to leave their conversation like this- one-sided.

“Hey.” He called. Atlas turned. “It’s rough… I get it. I haven’t seen any of my family in a few years either.”

Atlas seemed to have recognized the heavy tone to Kamui’s voice, offering him a smile. “But I’m going to fix it. I’m goin’ to go into that desert and get them out.” He hefted his woodpile into his arms, and nodded towards the house. “If that’s all I got to do, I’m sure whatever you have to is a piece of cake.”

Kamui let go of the deep sigh that had been building in his chest. Atlas smiled once more, before gesturing again towards the house. Kamui got the door for him, and together they went back inside.

Inside the conversation had died down, small conferences between pairs now rather than loud group discussions. Kamui returned to his previous spot on the couch, only to find it had been filled by a dozing Genny. Looking around yielded only the floor as open, so Kamui flopped down on a corner of the bearskin rug. Across the rug laid Leon lounging on his stomach, listening to the conversation between Valbar and Mae.

Kamui found if he extended his leg he could poke him in the side with his foot. He did just that, and Leon shot him a look. A moment later, Celica knelt down beside Kamui, and he tucked his foot away, hiding the evidence.

But she did not reprimand him, instead greeting him with a raise of her cup. “Hello again, Kamui.”

“Celica. How’s it going?”

“It’s going quite well actually.” She set her cup on the floor, readjusting herself into a more comfortable sitting position. Kamui noticed she had shed her boots and stockings, the first time he’d ever seen her so relaxed. “It’s been a while since our last chat. I was hoping we could do it again.”

Kamui leaned an elbow on his knee, surprised by her inquiry but interested in where the conversation might go. “Sure. I don’t mind.”

She nodded, smiling. “Atlas was talking about growing up here on the mountain earlier. It made me curious though, about your hometown. You haven’t spoke much on the topic of your home or family, so I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind sharing?”

There was a shift across the rug, Leon rolling over on his back as his attention was suddenly on them. The motion drew Kamui’s gaze, and he found himself staring into Leon’s eyes.

A beat passed. He didn’t know entirely what to say, so he went for the simplest version. “…My hometown? Doesn’t matter. It’s gone now.” The sharpness of the answer visibly discomforted Celica, and Kamui quickly made to amend it. “I used to be a shepherd. A nomad. Me and my whole family. But another tribe edged us out of the market, so we moved to the city.”

“That must’ve been tough! I’m sorry I wanted to pry.” Celica apologized, though her expression was still lifted in interest.

Kamui shrugged, ready to migrate away from the topic after just having brought it up with Atlas. “Still, it feels weird to stay in one place for too long. So now I’m a sellsword who straddles the world once more!”

She laughed. “It seems like the perfect line of work for you. Being able to see the world, travel from place to place, meet new people, have new experiences.” She played with the hem of her dress, a small smile on her face. “I traveled a bit as a child, but it wasn’t by choice. Much of what I saw wasn’t extraordinary in a normal sense, but after living on Novis for seven whole years… I never realized how much I missed the rest of the world.” She looked up. “I like helping others. I like seeing things. I like being around people.”

“And that’s why traveling with you has been so damn fun.” The words were out of Kamui’s mouth before he even realized it. But then Celica suddenly flushed, and he knew they were true.

This was fun. He’d been having fun. Seeing all these new places and meeting all these new people, sharing food and talking about all sorts of things- was loads more fun traveling with a whole pack of people, even if they were simply thrown together by chance.

_It’s sort of like a caravan._

“That’s…” Celica’s voice wobbled, eyes bright, like she was unsure of what to say. “Such a nice thing to hear. I never thought I’d have so many people by side on what was supposed to be a solitary mission, and it… makes me happy to know you’re enjoying your time with us.”

“Let’s put it this way,” Kamui grinned. “I’ve had way worse jobs.”

Celica burst out in laughter again, and this time it was Kamui’s turn to flush. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, enjoying the sound of Celica’s laughter.

A moment later he glanced up, and saw Leon was still watching them from the other side of the carpet. He had shifted back onto his stomach, nose now buried in his arms as he observed the two with an unreadable look. The archer sensed his gaze, narrowing eyes, meeting and holding Kamui’s for a long moment.

And then Leon blinked, looking away.


	8. The Young

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Aw, hell."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy here we go. Am I funny yet?
> 
> Posted from the Tampa Bay international airport using its shitty af wifi on my way to Wyoming for the solar eclipse of the century. Word.

"Aw, hell.”

The words reverberated through the room, bringing with them the sudden, intrusive presence of light. Leon fought the way it pulled him into consciousness, but it was too much. The archer opened his eyes.

Or tried to. The minute he attempted it, the sun assaulted his pupils, forcing him to shut them again with a hiss. There was a scuffle across the room followed by a similar hiss, someone else likely having just done the same thing.

Shading his eyes with a hand, Leon tried again, his vision swimming with the blurriness of sleep before focusing on the room before him. He was sequestered in an armchair in the corner of what looked like an inn room, a single bed pushed against the wall and a table with chairs near the door. On the floor laid two forms- one of which was Saber, running a hand through his hair; he probably was the one that cursed. The other was all long limbs and dark hair, arms thrown over his face; Kamui, and probably the one that hissed.

Leon’s mind swam, trying to piece together the scene. He made to sit up but a bright sting of pain shot him down, his body unresponsive and unwilling to move. He pressed a hand to his temple, face plastered to the arm of his chair.

 _Oh Mila,_ he was hungover.

There was a deep pulsing running through Leon’s entire body. It scraped at his skull like a vegetable peeler, throbbed suspiciously in his ribs and hips, and he would’ve been complaining about it, if his throat didn’t cry for water. He tried to search the room for a drink, but it hurt to move his eyes, his gaze settling directly in front of him- on Kamui.

The mercenary had unfolded himself and risen to one elbow. The headband he wore in his hair was missing, the escaping dark curls falling over his face and in his eyes. “Where are we?” A wince. “What happened?”

Saber scrubbed his face with a hand. He looked awful. “Gods if I know. I ain’t drank like since… well, my last time in Zofia Harbor.”

The name clicked in Leon’s head. They were in Zofia Harbor. They needed to stock up on provisions and supplies before journeying into the desert, and the village in the mountains hadn’t cut it; so, they’d backtracked to Zofia Harbor.

But after that?

Gods if Leon knew.

Their location identified, the three men shared a look. Kamui yawned, stretching his lean arms in the air with an easy smile on his face, as if he couldn’t be bothered to worry about their predicament. Leon scowled at him. He didn’t notice.

Saber rose from the ground, cracking his neck and back with painful  _oof._ He surveyed the room, his gaze flitting from space to space before he suddenly froze.

“Aw, hell.”

Leon followed Saber’s gaze, landing on the bed. And there, lying in a tiny sleeping heap, was Genny.  

Leon didn’t have time to dwell on that. The front door swung open with a sudden  _bang!_ His head whipped around, heedless of the pain that jabbed him as none other than Boey stumbled through the doorway.

The mage was clearly disgruntled, dusted in straw and cloak askew, dark skin gone pale. His voice shook when he spoke. “Can anyone tell me why I woke up in the stables just now?”

* * *

 

The sun was no less kind once they all got downstairs. If anything, it was brighter. And in the bright light of the sun, it was made abundantly clearer what an absolute mess they all were. And that was even worse.

Leon was torn between shoving his face into his uniform and just hiding behind the closest body. But everyone was preoccupied with their own issues, and no such body was close enough to where he had holed up in the stairwell.

Saber was standing by the door with the still-sleeping Genny in his possession, situated on his back like a child. Kamui had gone over to the counter, chatting up the bartender about the night before. Boey, easily the most rumpled out of them all (probably because he was the youngest, save Genny, and wasn’t used to hard drinking; Leon pitied the kid), had just sat down at one of the tables in between, head in his hands trying to block out the world.

Leon took a deep drink of water from his cup, pilfered from the bar. His headache had abated a bit with water, but the sluggishness in his limbs still made flopping over and sleeping on the stairs an appealing choice. The strange pain in his side had yielded to be a large bruise, running from the bottom of his ribcage to the top of his hipbone. Whatever could have caused such a thing, Leon was loath to think about. And wouldn’t think about, not until he could have coherent thoughts about more than rolling over and letting Mila  _have_  his poor, stupid soul.

And Valbar.  _Where the hell is Valbar?_

Eventually Kamui gave the bartender a nod and walked over to the table Boey had thrown himself upon. Saber came over from the door, and even though it caused him physical and emotional discomfort, Leon peeled himself off the stairs and joined them.

“So,” Kamui began. “It looks like we came in through the back last night. The bartender didn’t remember anything other than that though.”

“Through the back?” Boey echoed. “What does that mean?”

“Means we came through the back door.” The mercenary shrugged, rubbing his nose. “Oh, and that only three of us were walking at the time.”

“And what does  _that_ mean?” Leon spat.

“Apparently,” Kamui enunciated the word as if it were two, an amused smile on his face, “when we came in, Saber was carrying Genny, and  _I_ was carrying you. And then we dropped you guys over there and went to play cards.”

Saber let out a bark of laughter. Leon’s face contorted in disbelief. “You mean you  _left me unconscious_ in a corner. And then  _went and played cards.”_

Kamui shrugged, that same stupid smile on his face.

“Okay, that’s one thing-“ Boey cut in before the archer could throttle the mercenary. “But why was I in the stables?” The mage paled just saying the words, and Leon was suddenly aware how very much like horse Boey smelled.

“Oh, you started throwing up and the bartender told you to go out back.“ Kamui answered. “Prolly just puked your guts up and passed out.”

“Oh, because that just makes all the sense!” Boey ran a hand through his hair, face red with exasperation. “We have no idea where we are, or where the rest of our friends are. Why am I the only one freaking out over this?”

Leon’s heart dropped.  _Where the hell is Valbar?_

“A’ight, that’s enough.” Saber sighed. “Standing around yelling ain’t gonna get us anywhere. Let’s just start by heading out back, walking around. See what’s familiar.”

“Fine. Let’s just go.” Leon snapped, anxiety a vicious throb within his ribs. The other two murmured in agreement. The group began to pick their way around chairs, heading for the back of the tavern, Leon’s ribs throbbing for a  _different_ reason this time.  _For Mila’s sake, what in the world happened-_

“Aw, hell.”

Kamui. The group turned to where the mercenary was standing stock still, gaping at a patron in a corner of the bar. Leon had a whole rhetoric of colorful curses already on the tip of his tongue when he turned, but one look at the patron was all he needed to know what was wrong.

Kamui’s scarf. The blasted yellow thing was wound around another’s man’s throat. The entire group’s gaze flew to the mercenary’s bare neck before going back to the bar patron. They’d all been caught up in their misery that none of them had noticed the lack of scarf- Kamui as well.

“What-“ Saber sputtered. “What the hell?”

“I need to get it back.” Kamui’s voice was harsh with resolution. Before anyone could stop him, he stomped over to the patron. They just watched him go.

“Kamui! It’s a  _scarf!_ ” Saber called after him.

Boey ran a hand through his hair. “For the love of-“

Kamui came back, but the only thing in his hands were fists.

“What happened?” Leon demanded.

“I lost it to him at cards.”

“Seriously?” Boey moaned.

Leon cocked a hip, folding his arms crossly. “Why would he even want the thing? It smells like hay.”

The trio turned to stare at Leon. The archer made a face, and stared right back.

Kamui shook out his hands, looking frustrated. “I’m not leaving without it.”

“Man, are you serious?” Saber growled. Genny stirred, and his attention turned to situating her. “Just punch the guy, and be done with it.”

“You don’t think I already tried that?” Kamui lifted the pommel of his sword, still attached to his hip. “He said-“

“We don’t have time for this!” Boey cut in. “Celica’s probably worried sick!”

“I told you, I’m not leaving-“

“Kamui, get it over it!“

“Look-“

“No!”

“Shut up!” Leon shouted. The arguing abruptly ceased. “This isn’t getting us anywhere! So, stand here, shut up, and give me five minutes.”

The men looked at each other, expressions varying degrees of bitterness. Kamui’s especially, but through the frustration Leon could see the panic and worry in his eyes. That stupid scarf was important to him. Even if it smelled like hay.

Leon didn’t wait for their approval, regardless, before stalking away to the patron in the corner, flashing him a smile, and sitting down.

Five minutes later, he returned with the scarf.

He threw it at Kamui. The mercenary had barely caught it before he was winding it around his neck again. “You did it.”

Leon scowled. “I feel the need to wash my mouth out with soap after that conversation, but yes, I did it. Let’s go.”

There were no further complaints. The group pushed their way out the back door of the tavern, and emerged onto the street beyond. The sun was high in the sky by now, and the road was filled with carts, animals, and passersby.

There was a collective pause as the group surveyed the area.

“You know,” Saber began, “I thought I knew every shit-hole tavern this side of town. Turns out, I do. We ain’t anywhere near ‘em.”

Boey was on his toes, peering over the heads of the pedestrians. “I don’t see the old man’s house anywhere.”

“Old man? What old man?” Leon asked.

“Oh, I remember now.” Kamui chimed in. “The old fella from the boat.”

“The boat captain who originally took us to the mainland from Novis.” Boey supplied. “The man has a house here in Zofia Harbor, and offered to put us up for the night.”

“Well, that worked out, didn’t it?” Leon muttered under his breath.

The survey of the street yielded three taverns upon it. Without any other leads to go on, they decided to just visit them all. The closest one was called Lubber’s, and was a bit down the street.

“Well. Let’s find out what we did, who we did, and where we did it.” Saber said, looking off into the distance.

“Ugh. Could you not put it in such a crass way?” Leon snipped.

They got walking.

Pushing through the crowds was a pain, so the men stayed to the outer fringes and street gutters where the traffic was lightest. Boey was the one to lead the pack, Leon bringing up the rear alongside-

“Leon.”

Kamui. The archer tilted his head up as the mercenary joined him.

“Hey! I just wanted to thank you for getting my scarf back. Mighty decent of you.”

Leon flicked a wrist indifferently. “Forget it, it’s fine.” Being outside in the light had brightened the throbbing in his skull, causing all the sounds to become watery and distorted. He didn’t want to hear anything from anyone unless their name started with a ‘V’ and ended with a ‘albar’.

Kamui didn’t take the hint. “I suppose I’m in debt to you again.”

“Really, you’re not. And it’s fine.”

“And here I thought you’d take any opportunity to make me miserable.”

Perhaps it was the hangover. Perhaps it was the headache. The tone was teasing, but something in Leon snapped at the very insinuation. He whirled on the mercenary. “Do you  _seriously_ think  _that’s_ the kind of person I am?!”

Kamui visibly startled at the outburst, hands coming up like he was defending himself from an attack. “Look, I-“

“NO! No, no, no! Get out!”

The voice startled them both. The group had entered Lubber’s without either man noticing it, and upon doing so, a voice exploded from across the room. Leon whipped his head around, finding a burly red-faced man behind the bar counter waving a flagon angrily at the group, staring directly at…. Him?

“ME? What did I do?” Leon snarled back, raising his voice to match his accuser’s.

“Just hold on for a second here.” Saber stepped between them, hand out to the bartender. “Look, we were all drunk last night, so if you could tell us what happened-“

“I’ll tell ye what happened!” The bartender slammed his flagon down, pointing a finger at Leon. “That one right there was so drunk, he got up on my tables and started dancing! Not just one or two songs, but the whole damn set!”

The group swiveled to look at Leon. The archer simply shrugged. Dancing on tables wasn’t exactly an odd thing when Leon was drunk- if anything, it was to be expected.

But the man wasn’t done. “And then, he fell! And when ye did, you took the table and chairs with ye! Knocked himself out!”

_Well that explains the bruise._

“The next thing I know, I have broken furniture and the whole lot of you are running out the door without paying me for it!” The bartender wound his way around the counter, and stood expectantly before the group. “So what are ye going to do about that?”

Maybe it was the hangover. Maybe it was the headache. Maybe it was Kamui being an insensitive moron, but suddenly Leon was itching for a fight. “Well, I certainly am not doing a thing!” The archer asserted, meeting the man’s eyes. “I may have been drunk, but it’s not my fault your tables and chairs are so flimsy! I mean, if they can’t even support  _my_ weight, then  _clearly_ something is wrong here.”

“Why I oughta-“

“We’re just looking for some information on where we might’ve come from last night.” Saber, the voice of reason, cut in again, drawing the bartender’s gaze from Leon. “We’re traveling with a whole company, and we’d be fine with paying ya back. But we need to find them first.”

The bartender looked between the two men, eyes narrowing dangerously on the archer. Leon’s hands were curled into fists at his side- _begging_  him to take the first swing.

The red-faced man finally sighed, taking a step back and crossing his arms. “It was packed ‘ere last night. Don’t know where you all came from, but if I had to guess, it would have been Hilda’s down the street. She was having a two for one on drinks last night,” He cut a sharp look in Leon’s direction, “and if ye all were as drunk at this twat, then I bet ye went there first.”

Leon didn’t flinch at the insult, but he did tighten his fists. Saber nodded to the man before turning and giving Leon a sharp shove towards the door. “Thanks. We’ll be sure to drop by and settle things later.”

The bartender simply sneered at that, watching them be shepherded out the door with distrustful eyes. Leon sneered right back.

Back on the street, it took only a moment to locate Hilda’s, a bright yellow building at the end of the street. Leon’s hands only began to relax when they started walking, the urge to fight abating as quickly as it had come.

Discomfort settled in in its absence. Leon was better than this. He hadn’t traded punches seriously with anyone since his days as an army recruit, before he learned to use a bow (because everyone knew projectiles were far superior to fists in most forms of combat), and the last time before that… had been the bullies of his youth.

_This is just the way I am._

The very thought of them brought the urge to punch something back. Leon walked alongside his comrades, stiffly holding himself together as they wound through the crowds.

Kamui smartly kept his distance this time.

Reaching Hilda’s, they entered the aggressively bright building and were immediately assaulted with scent of aggressive perfume and aggravated aggression. The whole tavern was as bright as the outside, orange and yellow walls with vases of matching flowers spread about, fanciful women draping themselves over couches and against walls as if it were their jobs.

_Oh._

Boey looked visibly uncomfortable standing here in the bright parlor of Hilda’s Brothel, but both Kamui and Saber seemed to have perked up. Leon snorted.

“ _Saber_.” A velvety voice purred.

The group turned as a blond woman swayed up to the mercenary, whose only visible eyebrow rose at her appearance. She placed a hand on his arm, seemingly heedless to the sleeping child on his back. “It’s  _so_ nice to see you again~ I had fun last night.”

Saber eyed the woman, clearly trying to play it cool despite the fact he probably had no memory of said last night. “Ce… Cecelia?”

The blond’s face twisted. “Serah!”

Saber chuckled. “Sorry ‘bout that, darling. After a few drinks, all you bar maids start to look the same to me.”

“Ugh!”

_Slap!_

The sound of Saber being smacked caused all of them to jump. Serah- not Cecelia- picked up her skirts and stomped away.

Leon watched her go, and did not pity Saber. “You deserved that.”

Saber worked his jaw, which was quickly turning red. “I deserved that.”

No sooner had the blond left, a brunette appeared before them, smile equally silky as she looked expectantly at the mercenary.

Saber squinted at her. “Cecelia?”

“Megan.” The woman grinned, the expression not reaching her eyes. “Who was she?”

Saber paled. But before he could answer, she slapped him too, the imprint of her hand now matching the one on his other cheek. Megan- also not Cecelia- hummed at her handiwork before turning and sauntering away in the direction Serah had gone.

“Who’s Cecelia?” Kamui laughed.

Saber shook his head. “I haven’t the foggiest.”

“Well, okay!” Leon clapped his hands. “I’m going to go talk to the lady at the bar.” He strode off without looking back.

The redhead resting her chin on her hand watched Leon as he approached. She flashed him a dangerous smile. “Sorry hon, but we don’t cater to your kind here.”

Leon would have been offended if there was any part of him left to be. “As _if_ I'd be here for _that_. I just need to know what happened last night to me and my-“ Leon looked at the men. He would not call them friends. ”Group.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, following his gaze with an amused look on her face. “Well~ the handsome one…  _kept_ the company of two of my girls. The lean one chatted with a few, but was too cheap to cough up the coin. The small one just sat in the corner drinking himself silly.”  She fixed Leon with a decidedly unamused look. “ _You_  looked like you wanted to be anywhere but here. And the little lady stole one of the small one’s drinks and passed out half-way through it.”

Leon pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a moment and simply digesting the information presented to him. “And did you happen to catch where we came here from? What direction?”

“Sorry, no.”

Leon got up and flicked a hand at the redhead. “Thanks.  _For nothing_.”

Joining the group again, he relayed the information gleaned to them. “Also,” Leon added. “I’m happy to say that only Saber partook in any women last night. Congratulations, you’re not all completely disgusting.”

Saber just sighed, expression conflicted. “I feel sort of guilty though. We shouldn’t have brought the little lass  _here.”_

“Yeah. You drove her to drink.” Leon deadpanned. Saber’s expression contorted from conflicted into pained, and Leon got no joy out of it.

 _You’re better than this._ Leon was better than this.

“Well, I suppose we should go check that other tavern then.” Boey said.

“Yeah, might as well.” Kamui agreed.

They headed back to the street, which had thinned out a bit now that the morning rush was over. It had to be getting close to mid-afternoon by now, Leon judged by the light.

How long had they been gone? What were their comrades doing?

_Where the hell is Valbar?_

The group passed a particularly rickety cart on the street, all of them having to jump out of the way as it came bowling through. Saber cursed at it as it went by, but was stopped mid-slur by a loud yawn from the shape on his back.

“Genny!”

She was rubbing an eye, hands gripping tight to Saber’s tunic to keep her balance. Saber pulled her down, setting her on the sidewalk, and the rest of them crowded in.

“Little lass,” Saber ran a comforting hand over her shoulders, “How you feelin’?”

She yawned again, eyes flitting from man to man as she studied the group with sleepy eyes. “…hungry.”

Saber let out a breathy laugh. Kamui ran a hand through his hair. “I could use something to eat myself.”

They located the nearest food stall, which was selling meat pies, and bought themselves a sorely overdue breakfast. The pie was soft and warm, one of he best Leon had ever had, and he shoveled it gracelessly into his face. Kamui regarded the meat pie with strange look but eventually ate it, though with much less vigor.

“So, Genny,” Boey was the first to ask, “Do you remember what happened last night?”

The little cleric was already half-way through her second meat pie. She finished chewing the giant bite she’d just taken before answering. “Well… sort of. What do you guys remember?”

“Nothing.” Came a four-voiced chorus through meat pies.

“Oh, okay.” She thought for a second. “Well, I guess it all started when Kamui challenged Saber to a drinking match.”

Kamui choked. Boey laughed. Saber looked pleased for some unholy reason.

“A-and what happened then?” Boey asked, shaking with laughter.

“Kamui drank him under the table.”

Saber paled. Kamui began laughing and then choked even harder.

“Are you serious, little lass?” Saber pleaded. “That reed outdrank  _me_?”

“Uh-huh.” Genny took another bite of her pie. “It went on for a while too. Had the entire bar placing bets on who would win. Leon bet on Kamui.” She pointed to the archer.

He stiffened. He was almost thankful he couldn’t remember that. But then she continued, “It got really rowdy afterwards though. We all got thrown out.”

“Well okay then.” Kamui finally found his voice to speak, which was raspy from choking. His smile was blinding though. “Next?”

Genny almost seemed to be pouting as she answered. “You guys wanted to keep drinking, and everyone else wanted to go back. Kamui and Saber walked off, and then Leon went along too. _I_ came to keep an eye on you all.” The last part was said with her gaze cut directly at Saber, eyes shy under her lashes. He didn’t seem to notice.

Boey looked confused. “How'd I get here then?”

“You and Mae got into a fight. She said that you were too uptight and unadventurous. You came with us to prove her wrong.” Genny put a finger to her chin. “I’d say you did. You got drunk and sang sea shanties with the band for two hours straight.”

“Oh.” Boey’s face flushed crimson, though he was clearly pleased with himself.

Saber knelt down to Genny’s level, putting a hand on her shoulder, tone serious. “Little lass, do you remember where the old man’s house is at? Or where everyone else is?”

She was still chewing, but nodded. The group breathed a sigh of relief. “Can you lead us there?” Saber asked.

“Yup.” Genny pushed herself up from where she was sitting on the curb, pointing a hand to the next street over. “We just gotta go this way.”

“Lead on, little lass.” Saber grinned. Genny nodded, face bright pink with pride. Together, they all rose from their sitting positions and began to follow the cleric.

The sun finally seemed to be on their side this time, warming their backs as they walked in the direction Genny lead them. With a warm meal in his stomach and the end finally in sight, Leon would have almost called it pleasant. He allowed himself a moment to think of Valbar while they were walking. What was he doing? Was he worried about Leon? Were they really all that hammered?  _Why_  in the first place would he even let him go with them?

Leon recoiled at the acidity of his own thoughts. He had been bitter today. Especially so. Farther than he’d let himself go on most given days. He’d never been particularly good at holding back his thoughts and feelings, but there were things not even he could believe came out of his mouth sometimes.

Bringing up the rear, Leon was beside Kamui once again. The mercenary was still preoccupied with eating his meat pie, crumbs dotting the layers of his scarf. Leon was about to point out the grease spots they were leaving, but then Kamui wiped his mouth with the end of the scarf and Leon had nothing to say.

He still watched the man though. Kamui had a long stride, arms swinging easily at his sides and posture casual, like Leon hadn’t bitten his head off just a while before. Something that had been knotting in Leon since then loosened its grip. Kamui hadn’t meant anything with his previous comment. It was something just said in a jest, poking fun as the mercenary often did.

But it’s because it meant nothing that it’d hurt Leon so much. It sounded all too much like the jeers of Leon’s bullies when he was young.  _Stupid. Rude. Mean._ He’d long since thought he’d pounded those memories into the dirt, put them in a place where they couldn’t hurt him.

_This is just the way I am._

Kamui’s eyebrows quirked when he noticed Leon still looking. It was the same expression he had when he’d seen Leon listening to his conversation with Celica. “What?” His voice was light, expressionless.

Leon watched him a moment longer, but then he smirked, not unkindly. “You’re missing your headband.”

Kamui’s hand flew to his forehead, where he played with the erratic curls plastered there with sweat. He grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. I forget how long my hair is.”

Leon coughed, which turned into a snort but then quickly morphed into a full-blown laugh.

Kamui’s hand froze in his hair, face flushing. “ _What?”_

The archer covered his mouth, holding down the last vestiges of his laugh. “My hair is much longer than yours.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Kamui chuckled.

Their laughter settled. They kept walking side by side.  Leon didn’t apologize for snapping, and Kamui didn’t ask him to.

* * *

“Boey!”

After what seemed like an extra eternity walking in the hot sun of the day, they had arrived at the old man’s abode. Their comrades had been sitting in the front parlor when they group pushed into the house, Mae the first one to notice them. She’d flung herself so hard at Boey it nearly knocked Saber down behind him.

“Where the hell were you, you dork?!” Her hug was a choke hold around the mage’s throat. “You made me worried!”

Boey shot a look at Genny, who just grinned and shrugged in return. His gaze shifted back to Mae, wrapping his arms around her shoulders with a smug look on his face. “ _I_ was off proving how adventurous  _I_  am.”

“Is that why you smell like horse?”

Boey’s bravado faltered. Leon would’ve loved to watch the rest of their conversation unfold, if Valbar hadn’t approached him at that very moment.

The knight wasn’t there in one moment, and the next he was dominating all of Leon’s space, clapping a hand on his shoulder with a wide grin. “Leon! Good to see you still in one piece.”

The core of bitterness that had been holding Leon together all day dissolved in that moment. “Valbar!” He was practically hugging the arm he patted the archer’s shoulder with, grip white-knuckled and voice high with relief. “I was so worried about you, my friend.”

“Haha! There’s nothing about me to be worried for. You’re the one who was out drinking all night!”

Leon pulled away, trying to school the hurt from his features. “Valbar, what happened last night? Why did you let me go with them? It was a mess, my friend. A mess!”

Valbar saw the hurt in Leon’s eyes anyway, smiling melting into a frown. “I’m sorry, Leon. You just looked like you were having so much fun. Kamui asked you if you wanted to go drinking with him before they left, and you looked like you wanted to go. I wouldn’t’a let ya if I knew it was going to make you mad.”

Looking at Valbar’s apologetic expression, Leon couldn’t stay mad at him. “Ohhh… I guess I’ll forgive you then.” He punched him playfully on the arm. “You’re not off the hook just yet though. Buy me dinner sometime?”

There was that hopeful edge in his voice that Leon always had when he insinuated these sorts of requests, hoping Valbar would notice and understand. He never did. The world was full of things men didn’t notice. “Sure thing, Leon.”

“Who’s not off the hook?” Kamui popped into the conversation, slouching into place beside Valbar. The knight clapped the mercenary’s back in greeting.

“Me, apparently. For lettin’ you two run off last night. Ha!”

The two of them had a good laugh before someone behind them called Valbar’s attention. The minute he turned, Leon had Kamui by the scarf and was pulling him down to his level.

“ _You’re not off the hook, either._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, through a very long and convoluted way, we have begun to explore the uglier parts of Leon’s personality. Let’s face it: he’s a bitch. An enjoyable character, but a complete and total bitch. And there’s bound to be some history surrounding that. And I plan to delve into that piece by piece, but of course not all at once. This is ‘slow-burn’ folks. A crockpot cooks faster than my updates.


	9. Passing Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Without the drag and panic of alcohol and circumstance, Leon had the chance to think to himself: I can tell him to piss off and die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as of right now, all tags have been updated. I might add one or two depending on circumstance, but yeah, what you see is what you’re gonna get.
> 
> It also means that, yes, you read that right, I have 100% committed myself to the M rating and writing some (albeit not explicit) sex scenes. Oh boy.

It was hot.

They were still a solid week out from the desert, but _Mila,_ it was hot.

Leon was deeply regretting his woolen underclothes at this point, the black turtlenecked shirt and leggings that came standard with all Zofian army uniforms a sin in this kind of heat. He’d wrenched the collar open as far as it could go without losing shape, and rolled his sleeves up past his elbows, both of which barring more of Leon’s pale skin than he would’ve preferred. He dreaded the impending sunburn.

His new armor also did little to combat the heat. Celica had deigned it practical to upgrade some of their armor and weapons, and decided Leon was a sound investment. The chest plate was silver with swirls on the sides, and came with matching wrist guards and greaves. It was called Sniper armor. Combined with a newly upgraded steel bow, he was feeling pretty spiffy before the heat had descended and rendered all his new gear intent on cooking his soul.

He tried not to look too ungrateful, regardless. Celica’s gifts had made him happy. Happier than she probably knew.

But the heat also made for slow travel as well. Carrying their personal effects and the hefty amount of supplies acquired from Zofia Harbor (after they’d all become sober enough for a shopping trip- and paid the Lubber’s tavern owner back, begrudgingly) combined with the oppressive heat made for evasive motivation, especially when most of them were on foot.

Most, but not all.

Forgotten in the disaster that was the tavern crawl of four nights ago, Celica’s merry group had gained two new members- the Archanean Pegasus knights they’d encountered previously. Currently their names escaped Leon as both women floated through the air above the rest of the group, their shadows flitting over them and offering passing respite from the heat.

Leon watched their forms circle lazily above them, the golden light of the sun glossy on their plumage. He’d seen a handful of Pegasi before while in the army, mostly owned by nobles and knights. Pegasi were famously known for their preference of women over men, but Leon had befriended one once- a lovely grey mare from the capital, ‘Claire’ embroidered on her bridle (the name of the creature or of the owner, he’d never known). A few apples and a very candid stare down later, they were fast friends.

He fully intended on befriending these Pegasi as well. If only to prove he could. He supposed learning their riders’ names could be beneficial as well.

However, presently the imminent fear of Pegasus droppings from above took away some of the enthusiasm. Leon immediately took a step to the side the next time one of them passed over him.

That step sideways took him into a position of viewing the front of their party. Valbar had ambled up that way to ask Celica a question some time ago, but by the cheery looks on their faces, they had settled into some sort of conversation instead.

Jealousy was an old and empty thing for Leon at this point. It did nothing but take up space and make him miserable simply because it could.

But even in the stranglehold of Pegastym’s heat, Celica still looked as lovely as always, hair perfect and skin un-burnt and un-freckled. Just as on the boat, Leon was the opposite. And though he could bet assuredly that Valbar couldn’t care less about outward appearances, vanity had its own kind of reasoning. It had him tugging at his hair, dabbing at makeup smeared by the heat, feeling nothing but inadequacy.

He took a deep breath before it got the better of him.

As the Pegasi crossed over once again, Leon took another step to the side and out of viewing range of Valbar. He drug one last finger around his eye, wiping away the running lines of kohl and resumed his casual clamber onward.

But only a few minutes later he was dragging again. What was worst about the heat, worse than the sunburns and the smearing makeup, was the boredom. The way the world slowed at the edges and everything seemed to abandon functionality made the heat a tedious entity. Even the clouds were motionless in the sky, unimpressively shaped and completely useless.

“Bored?”

Kamui appeared over Leon’s left shoulder, long gait allowing him to stroll up beside him easily. The mercenary was leaning profoundly to the right as he did.

It was something that had only occurred to Leon recently- recently as in after a certain fireside chat had seemingly shifted something between them- that Kamui had a habit of leaning. The physical action itself made sense in the fact that the mercenary was a careless, free spirited man; he leaned on walls and against posts, leaned back into a slouch when sitting, leaned into Celica when they spoke. But he also had a habit of leaning on other things: his lackadaisical nature to get him out of responsibility, money to always be a valid reason, _against_ people’s buttons and sore spots.

His habit of appearing and slouching up and assuming Leon would accept his attention was leaning dangerously against one of the archer’s buttons and sore spots: assume nothing.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Leon replied. He wasn’t leaning in, though he also didn’t lean away.

Kamui glanced up as the Pegasi passed overhead again. They took a synchronized step sideways, regarding each other with a mild mutually impressed look, before he said, “I know a game we could play.”

Without the drag and panic of alcohol and circumstance, Leon had the chance to think to himself: _I can tell him to piss off and die._

Undecided, Leon raised an eyebrow. “What game?”

Kamui cracked a smile. “I spy with my wee eye-“

“Ugh, are you serious?” The archer groaned.

The other man simply held onto his amused grin. “… something that is… yellow.”

“This is a dumb game.” Leon gave him an incredulous look.

Kamui shrugged, leaning forward as he kicked a rock. “I used to play it on long trips with my family. Say what you want, but it does help pass the time.”

Leon didn’t reply right away. Kamui rarely spoke of his family or his past, and never did so unsolicited. What did it mean that he was willing giving it away now?

And what did it mean that Leon was still biting back the ‘ _piss off and die’_ on the tip of his tongue?

The archer took a breath, and rolled his eyes. “Fine. Just to pass the time.”

Kamui grinned, clearly pleased. He’d stopped leaning and was now only slouching. Leon felt like the weight had shifted off him, if only a bit. “So… something yellow?”

His eyes glanced over their surroundings, finding much of it green and brown. His gaze drifted back to Kamui, and landed on his scarf. “Your scarf?”

“Nope.”

Leon scoffed. “Don’t lie. That’s the only thing yellow here.”

“It’s not. You’re not looking hard enough.” Kamui’s tone was lilting, joking. A prick of anger coursed through Leon.

Pursing his lips, he took another gander around. Green trees, green grass, brown dirt, blue sky. None of their companions were wearing yellow except Kamui. With his intentions aimless, Leon found his gaze drawing unanimously back to Valbar- and momentarily startling himself when he was suddenly met with his own reflection in the back of Valbar’s armor.

The dark bronze cut Leon’s reflection in purple slivers, his shape gaunt and odd so far away from the reflective surface. The archer simply watched his form in the mirror image for a moment, attempting to tame the rising surge of _piss off and die_ by studying the awkward bob and jaunt of his limbs, before a smattering of yellow shapes caught his eye. Looking away, Leon saw the shapes were in fact dandelions, growing alongside of the road.

Realization dawned on him. He pointed. “The flowers?”

Kamui grinned. “Yup.”

Anger cooled into a flicker of pride. Leon found a small smile had crawled onto his face. “My turn then?” Kamui nodded. Leon put a finger to his chin. “Okay. I spy with my wee eye… something that is white.”

It only took Kamui a moment of thought before he pointed at the Pegasi above them. “Pegasus?”

“Yes. Right.” Leon frowned, a bit frustrated at how quickly he’d gotten it.

“Okay.” Kamui smiled, and it was like he saw the frustration and endeavored to lean on it again. ”Well, I spy with my wee eye something… pink. Purple? Pink and purple.”

Leon did not appreciate that. “Pink _and_ purple? It’s supposed to be one thing, not two. Choose one.”

“Can’t. It’s both pink and purple.”

“I think you’re full of horseshit.”

Kamui’s gaze leaned into Leon’s. They stared testily at each other. Then, Kamui said slowly, “I think you’re just shit at this game.”

_Piss off and die piss off and die piss off and die_

Leon wanted to say it.

But he couldn’t commit. Because somewhere inside him he wanted to find the pink/purple thing Kamui had seen.

He turned up his nose to Kamui’s stare, and took another hard look at their surroundings. Things pink and things purple, but not things pink-and-purple.

“Those flowers?”

“Nope.”

“A bird?”

“ _A_ bird?”

“Don’t be awful.”

“You’re still wrong.”

“Mae’s hair?”

“Not purple.”

_Pissoffanddiepissoffanddiepissoffanddie_

“The bruise I’m about to give you?”

The mercenary laughed. “No.”

Leon deflated. “Fine. I _give up._ What was it?”

Kamui crooked a finger at his face. “That.”

“What?”

“That thing on your face.”

“What thing on my face?”

“ _That_ thing.”

Leon didn’t think that was very fair. Crossly, he rubbed at his chin. “Did I get it?” Kamui shook his head. He rubbed his nose. “Now?”

Again, the other man just shook his head. Leon’s eyes narrowed. “Ugh, fine! Get it yourself.” He gestured to his face. Kamui, wisely, looked uncertain at the command. But before Leon could let himself be _too_ pleased by the man’s obvious apprehension, he said, “Just do it. I’m not going to eat you.”

Kamui still stood there a moment longer, almost like he was weighing his options, before he raised a hand and put his thumb to Leon’s cheek. Leon could feel his callouses and the gentle weight by which it was held to his skin as Kamui reached for the thing. He touched it.

And then they felt it smear.

Kamui snapped back and looked at his hand like it was about to fall off. The mercenary’s thumb was coated in a swirl of pink and purple -true to his word- and the archer’s face was now slightly _less_ coated in makeup. Leon was simply frozen in a terrifying half-sneer.

“Oh, man.” Was all Kamui said.

Without the drag and panic of alcohol and circumstance, Leon had the chance to think to himself: _Why does Valbar keep this guy around?_

He didn’t need to extend his contract. He didn’t need his help. _They_ didn’t need his help.

But this was also Leon’s fault. He hadn’t worried about it, just let Kamui get comfortable and become an integral part of their group without thinking. The carefully honed dislike he’d nurtured and bore for weeks, _three whole seasons_ now, gone because it hadn’t occurred to Leon that he was still supposed to hate him.

He longed to be able to look at Valbar, even to simply see the strange facsimile of himself in his armor’s reflection. But right now, Valbar was having a conversation with Celica, and apparently a conversation with Celica was the perfect excuse to lean all over the place and against everything in sight.

“I’m sorry.” Kamui said. He looked no more comfortable with Leon’s melted makeup all over his fingers as Leon did picturing Valbar leaning into Celica.

And then, without the drag and panic of alcohol and circumstance, Leon had the chance to think to himself: _I didn’t think about that the entire time I was playing the game._

The mercenary wiped his hand off on his (damnable) scarf, and then offered the thing to Leon to do the same.

Leon decided he could be a good sport. He took the scarf and gently dabbed his face. He was at once convinced he was tempting fate, but also that things happened the way they did for a reason.

 _Get along with him, for Valbar’s sake_ , is what he told himself.

“The game’s not over yet, is it? My turn?” Leon said, half asking it to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. The first Leon POV chapter since the campfire scene without the circumstance of alcohol or any other outward source of panic. This was meant to show off Leon’s competitiveness, his abstract jealousy of Celica (but at the same time, still values her attention), and as well as be a sort of rumination on where this potential friendship with Kamui could go. Or even if he wants anything to do with him. 
> 
> Also, to show that little by little, Kamui is becoming more open and playful with everyone. He’s kind of an asshole.  
> Ah. My children.


	10. Shot In the Foot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leon could see the scene Genny would write unfolding clearly in his mind. It looked suspiciously penned in Leon’s own disastrous handwriting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoooo updating a day early yooooo

Leon loved to read. Most anything grand or epic would keep his attention, but his favorites were romances. The intrigue, the _emotion,_ the way two completely different people could come together in unexpected ways- he loved it all, but what he loved _most_ were the characters.

The heroine, in all her renditions. Simple-minded, or spunky, or smart, or lethal. The hero, with more specified tastes, leaning towards the tall, dark, and handsome. The only one he hated was the ‘love rival’ character. Most people loved those flirtatious playboy-type characters, but Leon never saw the appeal. All the drama they inspired was profoundly annoying to him. The world had enough unrequited love in it as it was, it didn’t need more because someone broke hearts for fun.

If Leon were in a romance novel, he knew exactly what character he’d be: the best friend. The one that supports the main character and never gets who they truly wanted in the end. A sad fate to some, but love came in all forms and it was better to have it in some way than not at all.

That being said, Valbar had warned him. He’d observed it with the others too, but she’d attached herself so thoroughly to Valbar’s side that Leon had heard about it nonstop for weeks.

Genny, the little cleric from Novis (clearly sporting a crush on Saber), endeavored to write her own novel, and was basing it off her travels with Celica, which included a heroine with a striking resemblance to the priestess herself and a peanut gallery of characters based off the rest of them. So far, she had verbally masticated Celica, Saber, and Valbar- and now Leon.

She approached him one afternoon while he was reading in the meager shade of a desert tree at camp, pen and impossibly thick journal in hand with the keen look of a predatory bird in her eyes.

And it’s then he knows, the moment she started asking questions, that is the very way he is going to characterize himself: the lonely best friend.

Leon put a leaf into the book to mark his place (a recently acquired novel about the prince of a country recovering from a fifteen-year war, whom also lead a task force of heroes from all walks of life- nobles, commoners, thieves and such- keeping peace in his fragile kingdom; the prince had just found a woman, presumably the love interest, passed out and amnesimatic in a field) as Genny sat down across from him. Her quill had resumed its position poised above her journal the moment she settled, and she fixed him with a calm, cool gaze.

 “You know why I’m here, don’t you?”

It would _surely_ be hilarious, in retrospect, how omnipresent this tiny girl appeared at this moment. Leon was not afraid, but he had the succinct impression that he was entirely defenseless in this situation.

“I do.”

Genny licked her finger, and flipped to a clean page in her notebook.

“Good. Then give me what I came here for.”

* * *

 

“Things I’m good at?” Leon echoed.

Genny nodded, contently scribbling as they walked. She hardly even looked up. It was a miracle the kid hadn’t tripped over anything.

Not that there was much to trip over, except sand and the occasional corpse of a tree. The desert had nearly fully unfolded beneath them the past few days, the green growing sparse and the world descending into parallel seas of sand and cloudless sky. Travel was still slow and tedious, the Pegasi still floating overhead and threatening to make it worse.

Neglecting to answer because he was nosy, Leon hovered over the cleric’s journal as she navigated the sand with almost faithful disparity. Amidst the meticulous lines of notes there were inky doodles of the characters she’d made. On the page opposite to the one she’d been writing Leon’s answers on, an elegant, angular man with wild hair and a coy smirk posed with a bow.

Last night when she’d cornered him under the tree, she’d only asked him questions about his physical appearance. “How tall are you?”, _five feet eight pinkies;_ “How much do you weigh?”, _I don’t know, but if I did, I wouldn’t tell;_ “Any birthmarks or scars?”, _one scar,_ “From what?”, _I_ _fell out of a tree once._

And questions of the like.

So far, there hadn’t been any questions that had doubled as pitfalls for his blatant ‘best friend’-ness, and Leon was nothing if not an optimist. He vowed that he was not going to pigeonhole himself into that- if he could help it. It hardly felt fair to belittle the character he was supposed to become; as a reader himself, Leon couldn’t do it in good conscious.

Still awaiting answer, Genny continued doodling. Beside them, Valbar clunked along (for _moral support)_ , clearly having found conversation with Celica remiss for today. Leon was not afraid to admit that gave him a sick sort of comfort.

“Well, I’m trained with a bow, _duh._ ” He gestured to the bow strung across his chest plate like, _duh_. “They also taught us basic sword technique and horse riding in the army. I can read and write, but my handwriting looks like demonic chicken scratch.”

Valbar burst out in hearty laughter. Leon flashed him an unamused look, but Valvar just met him a wide grin and an amicable shrug, conveying a not unkind, _Your words, not mine._

Leon recovered with grace however; namely kicking Valbar lightly on the shin before placing a finger to his chin and resuming his answer. “Umm… I can throw a pretty good punch, if I do say so myself. Oh, and I do a mean smoky eyeshadow look. I’m also pretty flexible I guess. And I can do a handstand for six whole minutes!”

“He sure can.” Valbar chimed in. “Shoulda seen him when he was practicing to get that good. Got every guy in the bunk counting minutes for him as he practiced non-stop. Had to keep a rotation going. He kept cursing people out when they wanted to break, haha!”

“Valbar.” Leon said his name like a warning.

Genny’s eyes lit up. “Did he really?”

“Sure did. Oh, I got tons of stories like that.”

“Do tell.”

“Well when there was a whole bunch o’ us on watch without much to do, he used to come out and do tricks for us. Handstands, cartwheels, the whole shebang.”

_“Valbar.”_

“Everyone loved it! Always learned new stuff too, just to make everyone happy.”

“I _did it_ because I was a sad, lonely kid who wanted attention.” Leon burst out, trying to defend his pride _. Specifically, your attention,_ he added to himself. To be more exact, sixteen-year old Leon’s thoughts had been: _Look at me, don’t you wanna come bend me over and see how flexible I_ really _am?_

Valbar chuckled, clapping him fondly on the back. “Well it worked. You were the center of attention.”

Amidst the embarrassment, the flutter that always filled his stomach when Valbar touched him sent Leon’s heart soaring. He looked adoringly to his friend, unwilling to hold a grudge when Valbar grinned at him like that.

“Driven by praise.” Genny noted after a moment.

“ _That’s_ what you got out of that?” Leon balked, feeling his soaring heart nosediving. Genny was already scribbling it down in her notes.

“You think that’s a story, wait till you hear about the time he danced through an entire drill practice.“ Valbar offered unhelpfully.

“Valbar!”

“Outgoing,” Genny added to her character sheet. Leon felt himself blush from neck to hairline.

* * *

 

“My hobbies?”

Genny nodded. Over the bobbing nimbus cloud of Genny’s hair, Mae’s elfin face peered over at Leon. She’d skipped up to join them when they set out that morning and had, annoyingly, inserted herself into the cleric’s most recent round of questioning.

A territorial creature by nature, Leon wasn’t enthused. “Do you need something Mae? You’re hovering.” He glared at her back over Genny’s head.

“I just wanted to listen in. Valbar let me sit in once when he was getting questioned. Do you mind?” She stretched her arms over her head casually.

He didn’t mind her as much as the fact that, _apparently,_ she’d gotten to be Valbar during his questioning and Leon hadn’t. And that Leon wasn’t even aware of it. _Don’t,_ the part of Leon’s head that was hyperaware of his jealousy commanded. _Don’t make yourself into this._

A terse moment of staring later, Leon shrugged, and refocused on Genny’s question.

“My hobbies…Well, reading, for one. And makeup. Beauty in general.” Leon picked at his nails, suddenly apprehensive to speak his next words.  “And uh, you know, like Valbar mentioned. Dancing, and uh, tricks.”

“Oh cool! Can you do a backflip?” Mae burst out excitedly, huge smile on her face.

Leon, displeasure evident in all his features, sneered back, “Can _you_ do a backflip?”

Mae’s grin stretched wider. “Sure can! I can also do a front flip, handstand, _and_ a one-handed handstand.”

“Well I can do all that, _plus_ cartwheels, aerials, and kick stands.” Leon matched her grin with an even nastier scowl.

“I can put my leg behind my head.”

“I can put both legs behind my head. _At the same time._ I bend in all sorts of ways.”

“Me too. Splits?”

“Of course. Handsprings?”

“Duh. Who do you think I am?”

They stopped and stared at each other. Leon scowled harder to hide his burgeoning grin. Mae just smiled at him.

“Jealous. And competitive.” Genny observed pleasantly.

Leon gave into the urge to smirk. He could and would not deny it.

* * *

“My… my habits?”

The question knocked Leon so off-guard that his hand slipped as he drew back his bow string. The arrow floundered erratically as it left the bow, easily being batted away by the oncoming bandit.

The attacker got close enough to take a swipe at him with his axe, but Leon ducked at the last second and leveled a kick at the man’s kneecaps. He went down, and before Leon could whip forth another arrow, Genny was beside him, ending the scoundrel with a well-aimed spell.

The bandit crumbled, and Leon let out a sigh.

Jabbing one end of his bow into the ground, the archer used it to guide himself down as he all but collapsed into the sand. They’d been besieged since entering the desert proper, three days in a row now. A new band of bandits every day, courtesy of Greith. Leon looked forward to planting an arrow between his eyes- if heatstroke didn’t kill him first.

Out of the corner of his eye, Leon caught sight of Valbar bowling over a whole group of bandits with his shield, a wild grin on his face. The knight had been taking this all in stride, bless the man. Kamui’d told them that Greith had been Barth’s boss, and that’d gotten Valbar all riled up.

Leon ran a hand through his sweaty hair, lamenting at its grimy texture. Though that could also have been attributed to the fine spray of blood he’d acquired as a parting gift from another bandit.

“My habits…” He repeated, trying to collect his thoughts. His pledge to keep from characterizing himself the woeful ‘best friend’ had been largely unsuccessful so far. Saying _Well I make a habit of following the object of my affection and best friendship around to make sure he doesn’t die and that, maybe, he’ll turn around one day and love me back,_ wouldn’t really help. If anything, it’d paint him as a creep.

He sighed again.

“I put my hand on my chin a lot. And I never do anything without putting makeup on first.” Today was no exception, even as six silvers’ worth of kohl was dripping down his face. Now that he’d stopped moving, the heat seemed all encompassing, the sun a beast that had seen its prey and wanted to devour him whole. “I sleep on the left side of the bed. And…and I-“

He hadn’t realized his eyes had been slipping closed until he felt the gentle press of a hand upon his skin, and they were snapping open again. Genny was leaning down over him, hand to his forehead.

“Are you okay?” Genny asked worriedly. Leon fixated on her hand as he tried to ground himself.

He took note of the cleric’s long sleeves. Her entire dress ran from neck to ankle, and through the slits on the sides, he could see she was wearing tall socks too. What little skin he could see was as red as her hair, sweating just as badly as him.

“I’m fine. Just sweaty.” Leon groaned. His eyes flicked to hers. “What about you? How are you holding up?”

“’M fine.” Genny retracted her hand, reaching for the water skin she had looped to her belt. She held it out to Leon, and waited for him to take it.

He looked at the water for a moment, just a moment because the sun was trying his patience, but then he shoved it back at her. “No, you’re not. Take a drink first. And roll up your sleeves or something. If you pass out, I can’t fight _and_ carry you.”

She asserted, “It’s my job to take care of people. I told you I’m fine.” She shoved the water back at him with a resolute grimace.

Because it was hot, and Leon was weak, he took the water this time, taking huge gulps of it, careful not to let it run down his chin. Though he was tempted to drink it all, he capped it before it was halfway gone and handed it back to her.

“Still. You’re our only healer. You need to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.” He paused, glaring at her until she took a drink herself. “What if Valbar or Celica got hurt, and you couldn’t help them because you were sick? That would be inexcusable!”

Genny just nodded obediently, not bristled in the least by Leon’s harshness. That was something he had come to appreciate about her- she was tougher than she looked.

Leon felt immensely bitter for some reason. “So… take care of yourself, for their sake.” He waved his hand, trying to appear nonchalant. “Also, it’d be horrible if you put so much time and effort into this book and couldn’t finish it because something happened. I was sort of looking forward reading it.”

She looked off behind her, to where Leon now saw she’d left her journal in the sand. The hand still holding her staff tightened. There were ink stains on her fingers. Leon had never noticed that before. “Yeah.”

She lingered a moment longer before going to retrieve her journal. Leon watched her go, a knot forming in his chest.

Wanting something to do with himself, he took to staring out across the desert, searching for the familiar form of Valbar. A shape moving a short way off caught his eye, and when Leon glanced at it he instead found the slim shape of Kamui, rolling across the sand.

Literally rolling. Somersaulting away from a bewildered bandit. The mercenary had donned _his_ new armor from Celica just recently, a sleek and lightweight Myrmidon set that made him obnoxiously proud of himself; the speed it allowed for had him using it as an excuse to try dumb things.

Leon scowled at him. Kamui was going to get himself killed. And that was no longer such an insignificant thing. 

The archer could feel the press of eyes upon him, and when he glanced back he saw Genny had returned. And that she’d been looking at him. He’d been caught staring at Kamui. By the curious look in Genny’s eye it seemed to have been a massive mistake.

He stood up and dusted himself off, hiding his reddened face in his shoulder. “Ugh, it’s too hot. Let’s go join the others.”

“Frets about the welfare of others. Compassionate.” Genny said quietly, almost to herself, as he walked away, and then made to follow.

* * *

“My childhood?”

There was no nod this time. Genny simply shaded her face from the light of the setting sun with the hand holding her quill.

Leon quirked and eyebrow at her. Genny quirked an eyebrow back, not clarifying. “You’ve asked about my height, my abilities, my hobbies, my _habits,_ but you’ve never asked something personal like that.” Leon clarified for himself.

Genny’s gaze fell to her journal, tapping her quill on the spine. “In my experience, you can know more about a person through the things they _don’t_ say than the things they do. I mean, I could take notes all day on your jealousy streak or habit of putting your hand to your chin,” Leon realized he was doing just that, listening to her speak. He retracted his hand self-consciously. “But I won’t know where it all that comes from if I don’t learn about you or your past. Knowing _who_ a person is one thing, but knowing _about_ them is different.”

She spoke professionally, honestly. Leon regarded her.

His past was not something he spoke freely about, if for only people rarely asked. Being in the army for as long as he had- ten _years-_ it got to the point where everyone knew about everybody else, and these sorts of questions lost their place in Leon’s life.

But something few people, and fewer here, knew about Leon: it was hard for him to talk about himself.

There were plenty of things Leon disliked about himself, and speaking at any length about them was worse than simply acknowledging they existed- it was admitting that he had no desire to change them because he knew who he was. But it was also that there were plenty of other things that were simply painful to talk about.

He’d grown soft, being with people who knew him, knew all of him, every day and every night. _It wasn’t a secret if simply no one talked about it._ He’d willingly left that life behind.

But he’d never missed it before now.

Getting to talk with Genny these past weeks reminded him of that feeling- of being known. Of how much he’d grown up and learned and became the person he was now.

“I’m an only child. I lived with my mom, dad, and aunt in a village in northern Zofia. My parents were potters. My aunt was a teacher. My parents made enough money to send me to school, but she was the one who taught me how to read.”

Genny’s hand snapped to writing the moment he began speaking, and once he started he couldn’t stop. “I was close with both of my parents growing up, but I was even closer with my aunt. She was my teacher at school. I didn’t get the best marks, but I did like learning. I liked reading more than running around outside at the very least. It was one of the reasons I was bullied a lot as a child.” He rolled his eyes, remembering. “But then again I had a pretty bad attitude back then too.”

Genny giggled at that. He smiled too.

“Sure surprised them when they learned I could throw a punch though. I used to get in fights all the time. I spent so much time in the corner staring at the wall as punishment, I left my name there. Not that anyone could read it, my hand writing was horrible.“ He sighed. The memory seemed silly now that he wasn’t sharing it in the barracks with a bunch of angry teenagers ready to fight the world. “It’s not really something to be proud of, but I found I was pretty good at fighting.”

“Is that how you got your scar?”

“No. I told you, I fell out a of a tree. Separate event.”

Genny made a noise that indicated she wanted to know about said event.

“The tree thing happened when I found a kitten that’d gotten stuck in one. I was like, eight, and already taller than the other kids, so when we found it outside our schoolhouse, I was the one who went up and got it. I fell out, but the kitten was fine. I ended up keeping her as a pet.”

Genny made a noise of amusement and returned to her notetaking.

Leon’s heart lurched when he knew that meant he should continue. “I only really had one friend growing up. His family ran the dairy farm in town. But he never wanted anything more than to get out of that village.”

“Did he?”

“Did he what?”

Genny peered at him over the top of her journal. “Did he ever leave?”

“He did. And I followed him.”

Something unspoken passed between them. _It wasn’t a secret if simply no one talked about it._

Once upon a time, Leon’s voice would have started to crack at this point in the story. “But before that we spent nearly every day together. We attended school together, I helped around their farm for spare money, his elder brother was my first crush. He was the one who named my kitten ‘Puppy’. When I was eleven, we walked to the next town over in the middle of the night because his parents were fighting again. When I was thirteen, we kissed for the first time. When I was fourteen, we joined the army.”

_When I was fifteen, he died._

Once upon a time, Leon would have cried at this point of the story. Leon, the woeful best friend.

Something unspoken.

The only noise was of their steps for a while. Genny had stopped writing, staring at their sunset shadows as they walked. The archer and the cleric brought up the rear of the Celica’s party, their comrades finally giving them their space after butting in for two weeks. Leon couldn’t even see Valbar from where he was. Never had he hated the space between them more.

But without him there, it gave Leon the courage to ask, “Did Valbar mention me? When you were questioning him?”

Genny nodded slowly. “He did. He said he met you when you were fifteen.” A moment of silence. “That you were his closest friend.”

Once upon a time, those words would have broken Leon’s heart.

In the present, they provided him comfort.

“Have you ever broken anything?” Genny asked suddenly. ‘Anything’ was a loaded word, and as a writer, she knew it.

Anything. _Wrist. Fingers. Ribs. Toes. Heart._ “Of course.”

* * *

“So… how about a love interest?”

It was Leon who approached Genny with a question this time.

She wiped a spatter of blood casually from her cheek before answering, “Way ahead of you.”

Leon ducked an oncoming arrow. “A… What? Really?”

“Yup.”

Leon had a whole spiel thought out. Practiced it all morning, through the hordes of desert pirates. He’d gotten a little too into it yesterday, puking his emotional guts up for Genny’s story- and in the process doing irreparable damage to his character’s best friend-ness. So, he’d had a new thought: if he couldn’t save this character from becoming _him,_ turn that tragedy into character development. And what process developed a person more than the process of falling in love?

“Okay. Well that’s good we’re on the same page.”

Genny ducked under a mercenary’s sword. “Yup.”

“I mean, it’s a grand epoch fantasy you’re writing, isn’t it? Romance really is a must in those kinds of story. Tethers the reader to the world emotionally.” Leon punched the mercenary in the nose, following it with an arrow clean through the throat.

“Yup.”

“I’m sure the heroine already has a love interest, but surely there must be a man available for our character-“

“His name is Leroy.”

 _Leroy?_ Two bandits were circling closer than Leon would have liked. “Okay. Leroy. Is there a character we could pair him with? A knight perhaps…?”

“I’ve already got him all figured out.”

“Oh, do tell!”

“He’s a mercenary from a foreign land. Very exotic. A free-spirit living by the whims of his wanderlust, traveling the world in search of adventure- but to also leave a sad childhood behind.” Genny healed Leon’s bleeding knuckles, dutifully waiting for him to finish punching one of the bandits’ teeth out first. “But that part’s a secret. At least until the second book.”

Leon blinked at her. She’d just described a despairingly Kamui-like character. “You just described Kamui.”

“Mmmm.”

They separated as the other bandit closed in. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Well, the knight falls in love with the heroine.”

“Valbar falls in love with Celica?!” Leon let go of the arrow he had notched in his bow a little too forcefully. The struck pirate’s shoulder all but exploded.

“No. The _Masked Knight_ falls in love with Celica.”

“Then what’s Valbar?” Leon knew his voice was descending into a range usually suited for cursing lazy bunkmates out. The two bandits from before were dead, but in their place five more had caught sight of the archer and cleric and were marching for them.

“A baron. Don’t worry about it, it won’t be important until the third book.”

“I still object to the pairing of Leroy with that… type of character.”

Genny stepped back as Leon began rapid firing at the oncoming enemies. “Why? Can’t you just see it- the beautiful, anxious, emotionally-fragile, rough and tumble archer clashing with the spirited, playful, apathetic mercenary who just wants somewhere to belong?”

Most of Leon’s arrows where missing their targets. “No.”

“Oh, what if there was a rescue scene? Where the archer gets surrounded and incapacitated, and the mercenary swoops in, scoops him up, and saves him?”

“Definitely not! I’m- Leroy is not a damsel in distress! He’s rough and tumble!”

Three of the bandits had survived the onslaught of arrows. “I can see it now.” Genny said dreamily as Leon grabbed her by the sleeve, and shoved them backward and up onto a boulder.

“I’d much rather being alive to continue seeing _real, possible things._ ” Leon snapped as he used his leverage to snipe one of the bandits. But two still remained and were fast approaching.

“But it _is_ real, isn’t it? The possibility that two such different people could be good together. That they could bring out the best and the worst in each other-”

“Genny!“

One of the bandits had reached them, zeroing in on Genny and reaching out to drag her off the rock. Leon shoved her backwards, taking up her spot and getting ensnared instead.

With his heavier weight, Leon was able to cling to the rock long enough to pull back a leg and kick the clinging bandit square in the jaw. The man went flying backward, freeing him and allowing the archer to scramble back onto the rock. His heart was a calamity in his chest, hand was already flying to his arrow cache, setting up to aim his bow, only to find it… empty.

Panic seized him. Long enough for the first bandit to recover and the second one to grab him and yank Leon off the rock.

Leon felt his balance fail and his limbs windmill. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he had to ball up and roll into the fall in order to escape injury.

The fall never completed, however. One moment, he was falling, the next moment, Leon had a face full of hay-smell and scarf and was being swept up bridal-style by a swiftly moving shape. And once the world stopped tilting on its axis and the swift shaped slowed, Leon saw that both bandits had been dispatched, and that he was currently in the arms of Kamui- smiling that self-satisfied smirk of his.

Leon forgot how his limbs and lungs worked for a moment. He was practically wind-struck as he met the mercenary’s thin dark eyes, cut under sand-coated eyelashes. “Kamui!”

“Good timing?” The mercenary greeted pleasantly.

Behind them, a shape coughed and emerged from behind the boulder: Genny, sandy and scratched-up but otherwise unharmed. She took one look at the scene presented before her and her eyebrows shot sky-high.

Leon could see the scene Genny would write unfolding clearly in his mind. It looked suspiciously penned in Leon’s own disastrous handwriting.

_For Mila’s sake._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rises from the dead and strikes a pose* Alternate title for this chapter: Akira’s Stupid Amount of Headcanons about Leon. This chapter was like fucking pulling teeth to fucking write for fucks sakes. I hope y’all didn’ mind the format, the story progression and what not happening in the background and focusing on Leon’s character up front. On the upside, Genny is such a darling character, I love her and I am 1000% sure she would write fanfics about everyone in Celica’s party, like ho-ly shit. Genny is me.
> 
> Again, I’m so sorry about my sporadic updates. I am a slow and obsessive writer, so it takes me a bit to get all my thoughts out properly and then a bit longer to edit the hell out of it so that when I post it I don’t doubt myself and get the urge to commit seppuku. I wrote the majority of this chapter during the weekend Hurrican Irma hit us, but afterwards I didn’t have wifi and I was fuck all for writing. I’m also in the middle of moving right now. Rest assured, I will NEVER abandon this story. Thank you everyone who puts up with my shit, the validation of strangers is what gets me up in the morning.
> 
> *ALSO* Genny said some very poignant things about Kamui, but REMEMBER she was there when Celica and Kamui had their conversation about Kamui's hometown.


	11. Lightning and Other Dangerous Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah. That. That thing about Leon hating his guts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA pt.1: guESS WHAT NERDS I’VE ADDED THREE CHAPTERS TO THIS SHIT SHOW. WE’RE IN IT FOR 33 CHAPTERS NOW. BUCKLE UP DOUBLY HARD.
> 
> PSA pt.2: Sorry I’ve been sketchy about replies to comments, but I’d like to announce I’ve safely moved and have now relocated from Florida (good fucking riddance) to my hometown in Arkansas (only slightly more okay). I’m living with my dad now! And working again, haha. I lost my job the same week I started this fic back in June, and it really helped me (mentally/emotionally) get through everything and I just wanna gush about how nice y’all have been to this nerd. You’ve all been wonderful readers, and you all just make me happier than I can figure out words for? I am so fucking happy all the gosh diddly darn time and I want you all to feel good about yourselves okay. (★￣∀￣★）So! With that being said, let us continue on with the story! We’re approximately one third of the way through!

“Oh!”

Though the crackles of electricity and sighs of defeat had been keeping him amused all evening, this exclamation was the noise that made Kamui look up from his coins.

Across the fire circle, Boey had his fingers clenched, sweat dripping down his face but a smile spread wide across his cheeks. On the ground, a small lump of bread that had gone hard was now smoking, a dark black burn searing its top.

“OH!” The mage repeated, louder this time.

Boey had been attempting to strike the thing with lightening for the better part of the evening, trying to better his aim with the newly learned spell. He’d succeeded in frying the ground around the bread multiple times, and even once managed to zap a curious scorpion that’d wandered too close, but this was the first time he’d actually hit his intended target.

Boey lowered his hands, leaning forward to inspect the bread as if he wasn’t sure if he’d made the burn or if the bread had just grown tired of being shot at and singed itself for his benefit.

Kamui chuckled. “You’re getting better.”

“You think?” Boey replied, clearly pleased despite the shake in his voice.

The mage sat back, wiping the sweat from his eyes with a discarded glove. He’d taken them off after the first attempt of the evening had resulted in him singeing them from the inside.

The mage and the mercenary were posted on watch duty that night. They’d been in the desert for just over two weeks now, and nearly every day of those two weeks they’d been hounded by Greith’s pirate army. Watches were being kept at all hours of the day; the one upside was that the night watches had shorter shifts now, switching out twice a night rather than once to make sure everyone stayed alert and rested. Kamui and Boey were the second shift.

The night had been uneventful so far, both men taking to wiling away the boredom however they could. At his feet, Kamui’s money satchel was upturned, gold and silver coins spread across his lap and dripping onto the ground, blinking in the firelight like eyes in the sand. He’d been counting them, flipping them idly in the air, reveling in the weight of them in-palm. Kamui had amassed a small, humble fortune over the four years he’d been working in Valentia, but no job had paid him as handsomely as Valbar’s had. He’d only paid the mercenary half in advance, but by the time they reached the temple Kamui’s fortune was going to be nearly doubled.

The thought pleased Kamui greatly as he began to slide the coins back into his bag. He would count them again before going to bed.

Boey had recovered from the shock of his success and was now rummaging around in his pack, emerging with a pouch of dried meat after a moment. He stuffed two pieces in his mouth at the same time, the color starting to return to his pallid cheeks. Kamui had no clue how magic worked, but from what little he’d gleaned, it was a taxing practice on the life of a mage. Mae, Celica, and Boey were always stuffing their faces.

While he ate, Kamui gestured to the silver he’d purposely left out on his knee and asked, “Heads or tails?”

“Heads.” Boey replied through a mouthful of jerky. It’d been a game they’d been playing for most of watch. It’d been a game Boey had been losing for most of watch.

Kamui tossed the coin. When it landed in his palm, it was indeed heads. “Heads it is.”

“Oh! There really is a first time for everything, isn’t here?”

After he’d eaten the entire pouch of jerky and they’d played a few more rounds of coin toss (Boey won two of the four), Boey stood up, patting his hands clean on the front of his tunic. He rolled a shoulder, looking much better. “Ugh, I’m all creaky from sitting down for so long. I’m going to go do a perimeter check and stretch my legs. I’ll scream if I get attacked.”

Kamui gave him a two-fingered salute. “Sure thing.”

The crunches of Boey’s boots circled the fire pit and faded as he walked towards the north end of camp, leaving Kamui alone with his coins, the scorpions, and silence. Kamui had found himself in the seeming minority as that he enjoyed the desert vastly. He’d always loved wide, open spaces, the freedom of being able to run in any direction, the way he could feel both smaller and larger at the same time. The way the golden sand went on as far as the eye could see, falling off the edges of the world for all he knew. The heat hardly bothered him either, and the nights were pleasantly warm even without a fire.

It all gave him a sense of peace. The same sort of peace he got as he slid his coins into the satchel, giving it a small shake just to hear the happy jangle of metallic wealth before fastening it back to his belt.

It’s times like this that Kamui would play ‘What Would/Will You Spend Your Ridiculous Amount of Wealth On?’ with himself. His answers always changed depending on the season and current job, but there were a few constants. Presently, he would drop a shiny silver on any form of shade that didn’t threaten to defecate on those below for the long walks in the sun. Consistently, he pondered purchasing a horse, both for quicker travel and to see if he was still any good at riding one. Presently, something sweet. Consistently, a house so big and filled with so many rooms, hallways, and doors that he could wander the rest of his life within them and satisfy his shapeless wanderlust.

Lost in his game, he didn’t register the scuffle behind him until the soft _fwap_ of a tent flap being thrown back alerted him to the other presence. The beige tent gaped at him with a dark hollow mouth before a pale head of hair flung itself through and basically tripped its way out.

Leon rose up as he extricated his slender limbs from the maw of the tent, shaking them crossly and muttering a few curses aimed at the structure. Once done berating the tent, he glanced up and met Kamui’s eyes watching him.

“Is it third shift yet? Did I wake up late?” Leon less asked Kamui and more growled in his general direction. The archer’s eyes were watery with sleep.

The rest of him looked similarly watered down. The collar of his shirt was stretched open, the knife’s edge of his collarbone a dark shadow on his pale skin. His sleeves were rolled up, bearing pinkened skin and scratch-lined forearms- the marks of the sand fleas that had feasted upon them all. He wore only the barest smudges of makeup.

Waving a hand, Kamui replied, “Nah, it’s still second shift. You’re good.”

Leon’s head sunk into his hand, sighing in relief. Kamui observed the momentary pause as the archer pulled back and simply stared at his hand, fingers inches from his face and eyes like liquid, before removing it to his neck to rake through his bedhead. He expected Leon to fall back into his tent, and was surprised when he came over and sat across from Kamui instead.

Leon folded his legs beneath himself, idly scratching at a flea bite on his arm before dipping his hand into the pocket of his pants and withdrawing a slim paper-bound novel. On the cover a blue-haired boy dressed in a tunic and no pants posed with a sword, a Pegasus knight (also with blue hair) flying behind him, both silhouetted by the dark imposing form of a bearded man. The book cover was smudged in some places, the corners and pages yellow and worn with folds.

It struck Kamui as a very un-Leon-like thing to keep on hand. He tried to fit its existence with the rest he knew of the archer.

“Whatcha doing?” Kamui asked.

Leon didn’t look up. “Reading.”

“Whatcha reading?”

“A book.”

“What’s it about?”

“Stuff.”

“… you like to read a lot?”

“Yeah. I like to read even more when it’s quiet.”

“I bet.”

Leon’s lips quirked, his gaze flicking up for the barest of moments before going back to his reading.

Kamui thoughtfully rolled the last silver coin he’d left out in his hands. Though the archer had joined him now, even if he was ignoring him, Leon had been giving him weird looks since yesterday; after Kamui had caught him from falling off that rock, he’d extricated himself rather curtly with a loud “We’re done here!” before stalking away. Which was to say, Leon was being Leon, and Kamui didn’t feel like he’d done anything wrong, and therefore was going to act as such.

“Heads or tails?”

“Heads or tails, what?”

“Call heads or tails, and I’ll flip a coin. You win if you call the right side it lands on. It’s a game.”

The archer’s eyebrow rose. “You like to play games, don’t you?” It wasn’t a question so much as a statement posed as question.

Kamui flashed him a lazy grin. “C’mon, entertain me.”

Leon folded the corner of the page he was on, smile sardonic. “You _assume_ I want anything to do with you.”

_Ah._

That. That thing about Leon hating his guts.

How easy it had been to forget that recently. The ill-defined, vexing hatred that the archer had borne ( _completely_ without merit, in Kamui’s opinion) for the mercenary since the moment they crossed paths on the outskirts of the Zofian capital. From the very beginning, it had been like this, and from the very beginning, it hadn’t mattered what Kamui did or didn’t do, Leon just didn’t like him.

Still, Kamui wasn’t sure who the disappointment he felt was aimed towards.

“…I guess.” Kamui replied evenly. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

Leon watched him, expression complicated. If Kamui didn’t know better, he’d call it confusion. But, really, what did he actually _know_ about Leon- Kamui amended his thought. He knew he was a soldier, that he adored Valbar, and had a sea of razors where his tongue should’ve been; but he didn’t know he liked to read, didn’t know the fondness he showed Genny, didn’t know the expression Leon was looking at him with, searing it into his skull like a lightning bolt.

Then, “It’s fine. Ask away.” Leon said, nonchalant. 

It was as if the world had been frozen before he uttered those words. Without realizing it, Kamui had gone completely still after the archer had initially spoken, and was only now able to process movement again. The casualness of Leon’s tone was easy to latch onto, and Kamui’s passive nature couldn’t help playing into it as if nothing had happened.

Kamui flipped his coin, venturing a grin. “If you had a ridiculous amount of wealth, what would you spend it on?”

“Gods, that is something you would think about, isn’t it? What’s your obsession with money about anyway?”

“Eh, you answer first.”

Leon narrowed his eyes at him, but put his finger to his chin as he often did when he was thinking. “If I had a ‘ridiculous amount of wealth’, as you put it, I’d… spend it on a house. In the capital city. With white marble and blue granite. Whole rooms that I could use as closets, and two- no, _three_ , libraries filled with books. And I’d learn to play an instrument.” He was squinting now, thinking harder on his answer. It amused Kamui he was taking it seriously.

The archer continued, “Or, maybe I’d just help rebuild Valbar’s house. It was destroyed when… you know. I would happily spend all that money making sure no pirates ever did such a thing ever again, but Valbar said he was past being angry, so I would respect that.” He shook his head. “So, then I’d probably just donate the rest to the temple, or… something. Okay, your turn.”

“…You heard about it that one night. My family made our living off the land. We lived and died by the plains.” Kamui’s grin had shrunk, but still persisted, his voice taking on more detached tone. “Our wealth was in animals, and our wealth was unstable. Too many die, and we were out of luck for the season. And then you heard about it with Celica, our clan got edged out by another, and we lost our entire livelihood. When we moved to the city, we were poor as hell and barely scraped by. I started working, and once I saw how we got paid, it was like… I don’t know. Being able to physically hold my hard work in my own hands was relieving. Knowing that it couldn’t die, or that someone else was trying make theirs worth more than mine. It’s stability, really. I just got addicted to the feeling.”

Leon was studying him again, smirking lightly. “That’s actually surprisingly sound reasoning. Coming from you.”

“I’m full of surprises.” Kamui slouched smugly.

“So you are.”

“ _You’re_ surprisingly less bitter than I expected you to be.”

“I’m not bitter, it’s just that when I’m aware of something I don’t like, I’m not afraid to make note of it.”

“What’s some other stuff you don’t like? So I don’t do something and end up with an arrow in the throat,” Kamui joked.

Leon took a moment to adjust himself, resting an elbow on a knee and slotting his chin into his hand. “Sunburns. Sand. Killing. Hard tack. Bullies. People who can’t take a hint.”

The fire gave the archer’s lilac eyes an eerie sharpness to them, his pupils tiny pinpricks in the glow, alight with something… curious. It was a face Kamui recognized immediately, the same way Leon had looked at him that night at Atlas’ house. Curiosity. Kamui readjusted himself, shifting his weight sideways into his left arm, and Leon watched him through the entire motion, never blinking.

Kamui had once reached the conclusion that he had a good handle on the sort of person Valbar was, and accepted the fact he couldn’t figure out squat about his chosen companion. Now he felt he could amend that thought.

Leon was like a bear trap. Perfectly content to sit there and look nice and demonstrate how sharp it was without ever having to do anything; sometimes hidden and other times raring to snap at anything, but if you stepped into it, you had no one to blame but yourself.

Kamui felt the teeth dig in.

“Tell me how you really feel.”

The way his voice drug over the syllables, the absolute deadness of his tone, it was enough to crack the cool veneer of Leon’s expression. The archer lifted his head, only to cock it the other direction as he studied Kamui anew from this angle.

“What was I unclear about?”

“That you hate my guts.”

“Were your guts just listed off in my dislikes?” Leon asked matter-of-factly.

“No?”

“There. So, I don’t hate your guts.”

Kamui felt this new information causing hiccups in his thought process. It was as if he’d been pushing against a wall only to find that it was a door when it suddenly opened from the other side. “Okay?”

Leon’s lopsided expression evened out, and his chin returned to his hand, though he was leaning the other way now. He looked both immensely uneasy and completely uncaring about the next words that came out of his mouth, though his eyes cut shyly to the side as he spoke. “Well… in the interest of killing time, and to be _fair,_ I suppose, you can tell me about what you dislike. Ooh, is there anyone in the group? Promise I won’t tell a soul.”

“Nothing like that, sheesh.” Kamui’s mouth immediately spat out, his placid nature getting the better of him. Leon looked supremely unconvinced, or maybe just unentertained, and though Kamui simply shrugged his shoulders, the flick of the archer’s wrist to continue was a definitive indication that the mercenary was not allowed to avoid the question.

Kamui rubbed the back of his neck with a hand, uneasy with both the question and the revelations of the last few minutes. One more so than the other. “I guess cramped spaces. And, like, being in debt to someone. But not much else really comes to mind.” _Other than you on occasion._

Leon snorted, bringing a hand to cover his mouth as he did so. He started full out laughing at the bewildered look on Kamui’s face when the mercenary didn’t elaborate further. “Seriously? That’s it? You’re so boring! Haha!”

“I’m a nice guy.” The mercenary bristled, though Leon’s laughter wasn’t cruel- on the contrary, it was the sort of tone he reserved for Valbar’s antics. It pushed Kamui further on edge though, rather than reassuring him.

Leon continued laughing in between glances at Kamui. He shook his head, clearly enjoying himself. Unfolding his limbs, and fingering the edge of his novel, which was now wedged in his lap in the crook of his knee and calf, he asked casually, “So… something sweet, eh? You like sweets?”

The change in topic was sudden enough to give Kamui whiplash. He still didn’t trust it; the teeth still held tightly to his emotions, the sea of razors teased high tide, and he furrowed his brow as he replied, “I do.”

“Mmm. What kind?”

 “I like… chocolate.”

“Oh. Me too.”

The archer’s face betrayed none of what he was thinking, but his expression did speak of mild yet not unwelcome surprise. He continued fingering the edge of his book. The teeth suddenly broke their grip, and Kamui felt like he had the night Leon had confided in him by the fire.

 _Oh, me too,_ suddenly read like ‘Oh we have something in common.’, and the possibility of that had really never crossed his mind previously. Leon’s vendetta was something Kamui side-stepped on a daily basis, telling himself it didn’t matter in the long run. Reaching a point when he didn’t bother to avoid it was a strange reality, but finding a point of even footing -on any subject- felt as far-fetched as the stories Kamui’s great aunt told about the dragons that supposedly created the world.

But seeing, and holding in one’s hand, was believing. Despite previously formed opinions, he believed that.

Kamui gestured to the book in Leon’s lap. “So, whatcha reading?”

“Like I told you, a book.”

“You’re a laugh riot.” Kamui deadpanned.

Leon rolled his eyes with a grin, holding up the book and pointing to the characters on the cover. “It’s a story about a young prince who goes on a quest to find a mythical sword and a lost treasure in order to save the world from an evil dragon. Pretty basic epoch stuff.” His voice was indifferent, but he treated the novel gently. “It was the book I bought with my first paycheck from the army after I moved to the capital. The story itself is older than me, and there’s been multiple sequels added over the years, but the original is still my favorite. Which is absurd since it’s probably the most bland and basic fantasy novel ever written, but…”

“Nah, I get it.”

Kamui did get it. He felt for the briefest moments Leon believed that when the archer’s eyes tugged the fraying edges of Kamui’s scarf, before the sound of footfall came from behind him.

Leon visibly jumped from the sudden noise, shoulders clipping inwards and hands flying messily to his book as he wrenched it open to a random page as Boey strode back into the fire circle.

The mage’s eyes cast curiously over Leon before settling down to the left of him. Kamui waved at him. “You didn’t scream.”

“I didn’t get attacked. Surprisingly.” Boey heaved a sigh in relief as he ceremoniously dumped the armful of objects Kamui had initially missed him toting onto the ground.

Sticks, a husk of a cactus, a full loaf of bread this time, Kamui watched as Boey positioned them to his liking in the sand. “What’s all that?”

“Some things I found. I’m going to use it for more target practice.”

“I wanna see you shoot stuff with lighting.”

A snort erupted from behind Leon’s book. When Kamui and Boey exchanged a look and glanced at him, he simply flipped the page and continued reading.

Boey shrugged and sat himself cross-legged on the sand before his objects, removing his gloves before he started this time. A flash of light emanated from his fingers as he began to practice again, and Kamui risked a glance at Leon. The archer seemed to be reading in earnest, content with whatever page he’d landed on when he’d thrown the book open in his haste. He felt disinclined to disturb him now, as content as he looked.

Kamui glanced to the silver still poised between his fingers, un-flipped and forgotten. As the sharp sounds of Boey’s practice and the soft flipping of Leon’s pages filled their small space of the seemingly unfillable desert, Kamui positioned the coin on his fingers, called his prediction, wished for luck, and flipped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So with this part I wanted to explore a point brought up last chapter: knowing a person verses knowing about a person. For all intents and purposes, Leon and Kamui KNOW each other pretty damn well at this point; they’ve traveled together for three seasons, know how the other operates, fights, talks, ect. They know each other. But they didn’t really know anything ABOUT each other before now. They’re trying to be friends guys, they’re trYING. And I’m trying to give proper attention to that, making the friendship as important as the eventual relationship.


	12. For All Outward Apperances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Is that really how you think of me? Because if it is, then I’m sorry I ever gave you that impression."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AKIRA COULDN’T POST A NEW CHAPTER BEFORE THE END OF THE YEAR? WHO IS SURPRISED? 
> 
> HAPPY NEW YEAR ANYWAYS.
> 
> But hey, if anyone’s curious, I also exist on Tumblr (@mistressakirahime) and when I’m in a writing slump I’m usually over there posting fan art and ramblings, so come poke me there if you’re bored or wanna chat.

Once, Leon’s mother had sat him down, and told him about girls. How they acted, what they liked, what they wanted. But then Leon had asked her, “What do boys like?”

She’d sat back, smiled at him knowingly, and said, “I couldn’t answer that for you. But don’t bother asking them, they don’t really know either.”

So then, young Leon figured out what he liked, and acted accordingly. Wearing makeup, picking fights, reading books; a certain boy’s laugh, a certain man’s smile, following his heart and being himself above all else.

All of which lead him here. To today. Right now, standing in the cracking halls of the desert fort they’d liberated just moments ago, the air thick with sand and the ego of victory, Leon is scorched by the all too familiar burn of jealousy.

Amid the post-battle bustle of bodies dusting themselves off, tending to wounds, and checking equipment, Celica stands in the center of it all, directing her party in their myriad tasks. There was a cut on her cheek- she’d refused to allow Genny to look at until she was done treating the others- that wept steadily, the luxurious cream of her priestess robes stained in places with dirt, sweat, and blood, but impossibly she was beautiful as Leon had ever seen her.

She smiled as she directed Saber towards the clay jars in the corner, asking him to take stock of their water supplies, teeth white and cheeks rosy and she was clearly so, so tired, but she wore it as well as she wore battle or life; and as with many facets of Leon’s personality, his jealousy burnt hot and fiercely through him with such a sudden spike, he felt the imminent hollowness it always left him with almost immediately. He could picture the way he looked right now (heaven forbid he actually find a mirror and affirm his horrific suspicions), doused in a fine layer of sweat and blood and streaky mascara, all the things he thought he wore well but Celica wore better.

“How are you holding up, Leon?”

Celica had taken it upon herself to approach the archer, and Leon only half remembered watching her do so. She stood before him, shifting her mussed bangs to one side of her forehead as she regarded him with a kind smile.

Leon’s bitterness towards her in that moment was a vicious and tangible thing as he replied with a drawn and drug out, “ _Great_.”

She blinked tiredly, crossing her arms as she surveyed the activities of her followers over her shoulder. “The desert has been rough on us all, Leon. Staying optimistic and keeping good faith does wonders for everyone.”

“You say that, but we finally get off that infernal boat, and now it’s the desert.” Leon narrowed his eyes, feeling the way his sunburnt skin knitted together uncomfortably. “Are you doing this on purpose, priestess? Is it personal?”

Celica slowly turned back towards Leon, eyes hooded and eyebrows raised, her innate patience a saintly void of reaction that only soured his expression further. She said nothing as Leon let his question hang in the air, the unspoken threat behind it as empty as Leon’s chest felt.

She didn’t rise to his jab, _in the slightest_. Leon sighed, waving a dismissive hand at her.  “All I want is to get out of here before I dry up like a mummy. If I turn hideous and Valbar abandons me, it’s your fault.”

Her gaze sharpened at Leon’s tone, and the innate soldier in him balked at the blatant disrespect he had spoken to her with. But it only lasted for a moment, her face shifting into a more neutral expression as she clasped her hands together over her stomach.

“I don’t know why you feel that way, but I know Valbar wouldn’t do that to you. You’re his closest companion. And he isn’t the type to judge people based on their appearances.”

Leon’s throat tightened as if some phantom hand intended to choke it. “What did you say?” His voice broke like shattered glass. “That Valbar isn’t the sort to judge people by their appearance? You think I don’t realize that? I know him FAR better than you! Gods, it really throws me when you’re so rational and correct…”

Celica met his gaze evenly, and though she was several pinkies shorter, the command she exuded made it feel like they were matched in stature. Leon had never seen her directly angry before- at any one person in particular- and the dormant need to pick fights that rested within him lifted an ear as if called upon. He almost wanted to see if he could make her snap.

But he also knew better than to. If nothing else, Leon knew himself. No matter his attitude or his personal inadequacies, his allegiance aligned with her. Valbar had found her worthy of his faith and trust -which was both an immensely reassuring and viciously infuriating thing for him- and she had proven it to them all time and time again that she was a capable leader. Smart, kind, and strong.   

So the archer met his commander’s gaze and held it, held it, held it, before slowly taking his gaze down to the cracked tiles of the floor.

The air between them had seemed to be holding itself before that moment, but when Leon submitted, it eased itself free.

“Go upstairs and assist Kamui with taking stock.” She commanded gently, but without room for argument. “Take the war room and the adjoining antechambers, and once you are done, you’re relieved for the evening. We’ll be staying here tonight, so feel free to claim wherever you wish to sleep.”

Leon’s eyes slid to hers, a last act of rebellion, before nodding. She patted him once on the shoulder before traipsing away, and if she was bothered by to the way he flinched when she did, she didn’t show it. Leon watched as she walked away, Genny popping up from somewhere to lay her hand on Celica’s cut cheek, the priestess nodding her head saintly as she finally allowed herself to be tended to.

Genny sat her down, and Celica graced her with another smile. Leon couldn’t help the way his insides reacted to the sight. Anger was easy, in the moment. It wasn’t until afterwards that shame seemed a wiser recourse.

Vainly, he reasoned a young thing like Celica would never understand the things he’d been through, and had no right to be so condescending, but it was just that- vain reasoning. Feeling rightly, irrationally, pissed off, Leon turned and stormed for the stairs. He knew himself, and he knew his jealousy was a useless feeling, but there was nothing else he hated more than feeling useless.

Not a damn thing.

The stone stairs he strode up were as dilapidated as the rest of the fort, and though he had turned up his nose at it, he would never complain about four walls and a roof over his head. The sandstone most of the fort was built from was even pretty at some angles- under the film of grime and dust, the minerals lining the fine seams of rock sparkled where they met the light. He had admired it earlier as he’d shot snipers down from their posts.

A small lump of rock had fallen from the wall, dull and unremarkable in the shade it had landed in, but it glinted mildly when Leon kicked it into the light. Leon kicked it again and it shuddered back into shadow.

Something within him always felt fundamentally wrong when he was like this. Contrary to what people might think, Leon believed that there was actually very little essentially wrong about any single person- that humans were predisposed to good rather than bad. And though his self-control (or lack thereof) left something to be desired, Leon rarely thought about it like it was a bad thing.

But making Celica upset definitely wasn’t a good thing. He couldn’t help the way he innately wanted her admiration, her attention. He could delude himself into thinking that was just because he’d rather her attention be on him than Valbar, but it was only partly true- and, as always, Leon knew himself.

He felt the need to prove himself to her. He rarely felt the need to prove himself to anyone. As a creature that largely did whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, _however_ he wanted, there wasn’t much room for the opinions of others. He wore makeup from the time he was twelve, and kicked the shit out of anyone who teased him for it. He went into the army and kicked the shit out of anyone who told him he didn’t belong there (and then in turn got the shit kicked out of him by his commanding officer for starting fights).

But Celica’s opinion mattered to him, almost as much as Valbar’s. Leon chastised himself immediately for doubting Valbar. He stayed by Valbar’s side because the man was strong, stalwart in prowess and promises; he believed in Valbar, and Valbar believed in Celica, and Celica led them all out into this godforsaken desert because they believed in her and she believed in all of them.

Leon stopped his tromp up the stairs to turn his gaze back to the rock he had kicked into the shadows. After a moment he doubled back and picked up the little stone, still glimmering despite the grime that covered it and the shadows that blanketed that, tossing it once in the air before pocketing it. He felt somewhat better afterwards.

At the top of the landing, the narrow stairwell opened abruptly into a large rectangular space. The sandstone walls of the war room were covered in tattered tapestries and an almost narcissistic amount of wanted posters in varying monetary reward, the floor blanketed by at least three clashing carpets and crammed with an alarming assembly of chairs. Two despairing bookshelves leaned against each other for support in one corner, and a pale sheet drifted in the hollow of one of the large windows. Despite the shoddy quality of the entire fort, someone had tried very hard to make this place home.

Knee-deep in the thrush of crates that dominated the far wall, Kamui was shifting through the contents apathetically. His scarf, sword, and shield had been deposited upon the large table that took up most of the room, a handful of shiny, unidentifiable objects lumped beside them. His attention drifted up from his task when Leon entered the room.

“Inventory?” Kamui asked in lieu of a greeting.

“Inventory.” Leon responded in lieu of a greeting.

Kamui nodded solemnly and gestured with an arm to the vastness of ‘inventory’. Leon picked his way around the circling shapes of feral chairs into the crates without complaint. The mercenary’s arm had disappeared back into the depths of his opened box, rooting around before emerging with a handful of fabric; he counted the scraps, numbering them off with his lips in syllables Leon couldn’t discern before pulling a shiny gold button that clung to one of the sheets and tossing it to join the pile of junk on the table. He then selected a new container and went along with his business, turning his back to the archer.

Leon pursed his lips and drummed his fingers atop one of the unopened crates, wanting to chastise Kamui but not finding a reason to. If anything, he would do the exact same thing once he started picking through crates; there were bookshelves after all, too. The old inhabitants of the fort wouldn’t be needing any of it now.

Leon selected the nearest crate and went to work, the monotonous rustling of their inventorying only broken by the occasional pause to toss some scavenged treasure to the table. As they went about their task, the colors of the desert day outside took on a dim tone, the golden sand bleached of its glint and the sky a lopsided patchwork of robin’s egg blue and the feisty gray of impending storms.

Standing up to crack his back (gods, he was getting old) after rooting around in a crate stuffed entirely with pottery and dishware in varying stages of divestment, Leon’s eyes drifted to the window and he gaped openly as the desert afternoon cracked open and rain poured down.

“Is… is it raining? It’s the damn desert, how is it raining out there?”

Kamui’s head rose from a crate he’d been inspecting, giving the sky a once over before shrugging. “Pegastym is the rainy season for most places. We called it something different back home, but it happened around the same time of year, too.”

“Ugh, hot during the day, cold at night, randomly rainy. How can _people_ live out here?” Leon waved a hand at the clouds, as if his ire could fan them away. When they refused to budge, he sighed and glanced up to catch Kamui’s eye. “You lived in a place like this before, right?”

“Like what?”

“The desert.”

“No. Plains. Grasslands, not desert.”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

“No.”

Leon blinked surprised, making a face. “What’s the difference then?”

“What, a city kid like you never been out in the country before?” Kamui teased.

“I wasn’t born in the city.” Leon corrected him. It was Kamui’s turn to look at Leon oddly while Leon simply cocked an eyebrow at him back- because there he went _again,_ assuming things.

“Just lived in the city for work?”

“Yup. Being in the army and all that important stuff usually requires one to be in an easily accessible place. _Like a city_.”

Kamui nodded, either oblivious to his sarcasm or simply going along with it, going back to rifling through his crate. “Right, right. My work usually takes me outside of the city.”

Leon clicked his tongue. “Imagine that.”

Kamui chuckled. “ ‘M not really that big of a fan of the city. But I sure as hell do miss the comforts of it.”

“Ugh, same!” Leon laughed.

The response made Kamui’s lips quirk suddenly, the smile that followed it somewhat mysterious- one side pulled a bit wider than the other in a smug sort of a look. Kamui ran a hand through his hair, tilting his head just so that the meager light of the remaining sun cast a bronze pane on his sharp jaw. He was just as filthy as Leon was.

“I miss, like, just having a bath. With warm water. And wine. Another round in Zofia Harbor would swell right about now.” Just the mention of the Harbor had Leon’s face screwing up bitterly. Kamui laughed good-naturedly. “I missed out at Hilda’s last time anyways, haha.”

Leon flipped his hair with a smirk. “I didn’t know you had a thirst for anything besides wealth.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, gold’s great, but sometimes an empty pocket is worth the price of some female company. You feel the same, don’t you?”

The archer blinked, frowning. “No, I don’t.” He picked his nails, casting his gaze back to his partially disemboweled crate. “But to each his own, I suppose.”

“What? You mean you don't,” Kamui looked absolutely dumbfounded. He made several nonsensical gestures with his hands, clearly none of which conjuring the desired reaction from Leon as he simply stood there with raised eyebrows. Finally, he lifted a hand in defeat and clarified, “… with women?”

“Um, no. Have you met me?”

“I mean, I knew about the thing with Valbar, but I didn’t want to just assume.”

Leon bristled slightly at the crude _thing_ his and Valbar’s relationship was simplified to, but he also couldn’t help the way his heart skipped a beat at the open acknowledgement. He had never hidden his affections for him- or any other boy- ever. But hearing Kamui say it the way he did-like it was an exception, not a _fact-_ bothered him in a way he couldn’t entirely put reason to.

Leon crossed his arms, though he wasn’t really all that upset. “If you didn’t want to _assume_ , you could’ve just asked. I’m an open book.”

“…Right.”

Kamui turned away, rubbing his nose with a finger, looking supremely doubtful.

Leon took a moment to recline onto the crate, folded arms slipping underneath his thighs to cushion them from the splintery wood. He leaned forward far enough to be sure he’d catch the mercenary’s attention.

“I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel otherwise.”

“No, yeah, it’s fine, man.” Kamui shrugged, face tugging back into its familiar self-satisfied grin. It was as if nothing had happened at all. Beneath Kamui’s long crooked nose there was fine collection of dust and blood globbed up that Leon had only just realized was there, the skin pulling up with his grin.

“I think your nose is bleeding.” Leon pointed with a finger.

Kamui sniffed loudly, “Probably,” and made no move to clean it way.

Leon scowled at him, but pulled up from his box and reached over to the war table to grab Kamui’s scarf- careful not to disrupt his pile of shiny doodads. He lobbed the scarf across the room and it hit Kamui in the shoulder.

“Don’t be gross.” Leon demanded politely.

Kamui snorted, gripping the fabric and wiping his face obediently all the same. “You didn’t need to make a big deal of it. I’m dirty enough as it is.”

Leon picked through the nearest open crate, shifting through foodstuffs with a smirk. Out of the corner of his eye, something shiny caught his attention. “It was easier than walking across the room and making a mess of it myself.”

The mercenary immediately got what Leon was referencing, and sniffed again, indignantly this time. Making a final pass under his nose with the scarf, he pulled it back and presented his face with a grin. “Better?” He waggled his eyebrows.

Leon appraised him. “There’s blood in your teeth.”

“… I can’t win, can I?”

Leon laughed, but before he could reply, a shrill clang rang out through the fortress. Both men turned their attention to the stairwell and the sounds emanating from it.

There was a clatter of feet from downstairs as several bodies all rushed in the direction of the clanging- which seemed to be coming from below the ground floor of the building. What followed was a series of thumps, ending in another loud bang and Saber’s husky rasp calling up:

“Celica! We’ve got a live one down here!”

* * *

 

The rain continued into the night, the uneven patter that which the small celebration held was set to. They didn’t have much other than dried meat and hard cheese, but someone (Saber) had found a cache of wine stashed under the stairs, and the merry feeling that enraptured them all was more than enough for the occasion.

The basement of the fort had housed a handful of cells, and within one of them sprung forth Jesse. A mercenary with a cheerful disposition and a jawline to die for (Leon had a type), but most crucially, inside knowledge about Greith’s operation. He’d unloaded some pertinent information on Greith’s legions and commanding officers, a mage named Sonia and a myrmidon called Deen, as well as the ultimate destination of their quest: the lonely citadel Greith called base in the far east of the desert. There were only two outposts between them and him, one to the north and one to the south, but whichever they took, they’d be on the pirate lord’s doorstep within a fortnight.

For the first time since entering this godforsaken wasteland, they had a set bearing on their position and a plan to act upon. No more wandering blindly into the sand, at the mercy of Mila’s will and Greith’s arrogance. This would be over soon, all this pirate business put to rest. And what better reason to celebrate than that?

Even the rain, though annoying if not perplexing, was a good portent. Pushing the rain barrels into the deluge allowed them all to replenish their dwindling water supplies before setting out on the morrow; but more importantly, it permitted a well-deserved bath for Leon.

Waiting for the water to heat was agony, but the moment the steam enveloped him, he was gratified by his patience. Running soap through his hair and over his patchwork milky-pale and scab-red skin was equally as rewarding. It was downright erotic, being this clean and comfortable for what felt like the first time in ages, and he made full use of the heat and solitude to find contentment.

After his skin had gone pruney and he’d sat in the water till it cooled, he dressed in his skintight under-uniform garments and relocated to the war room to peruse the reading selection. Valbar had already turned in for the night, and Leon didn’t really feel like doing much else other than reading for a bit before going to bed himself. Downstairs the light of nearly a dozen lanterns and the buzz of conversation still persisted brightly, the drone of the rain more prominent in the distance of the war room, the occasional burst of laughter the only thing that broke its melodic lull.

The archer lit a lantern of his own and rummaged through the dusty shelves till he had a sizeable stack of books- the pirates kept mostly political intrigue stories, of all things. He then selected the most comfortable looking chair from the horde of them and settled in, shoeless with toes tucked under him, picking up one of the more interesting titles he’d browsed and digging in.

By the glow of a single lantern and under the spell of rain, this was where Kamui found him.

The mercenary wandered in after the downstairs din had lessened, the bursts of laughter rare now and the lights of several lanterns having fallen low or gone out completely. He sauntered in casually, as if he either hadn’t counted on anyone being in the war room or simply just didn’t care. He didn’t even pause before flopping into the chair opposite to the archer, a soft groan escaping his lips as he reclined into the squeaky claptrap.

The sound of liquid sloshing followed the groan, followed by a gulp, and finally a sigh.

“Hey.”

Leon flipped a page in his book.

“Hey yourself.”

Kamui chuckled, a soft, throaty sound.

“Whatcha reading?”

“A book.”

“My bad.”

“Mmm. Everyone else go to bed?”

The chair bleated painfully as Kamui readjusted himself. “Nah. They just got quieter.”

“You on your way to bed?”

“No.”

It was a perfectly perforated word, an easy end to the conversation there. The mercenary was going to let him read in peace.

In fact, the mercenary looked about ready for some peace and quiet himself. Stripped down to his sleeveless undershirt and baggy pants, Kamui was still clad in his gloves and scarf; in one gloved hand, a bottle of wine sat on his thigh like an attentive mistress, the other, raking through his hair. The inky locks were a disheveled mess, and by all outward indications, he had yet to bathe. In the low light, Leon couldn’t be sure if he’d even wiped off the blood yet.

The scents of dust and hay wafted from him, but strangely, not wine. The smell was heady, mixing with the clean scent of the rain and the gas of burning oil. It was an oddly peaceful scent.

Leon was feeling peaceful, right now. The comfort of his bath and the informal ease of the evening- even Kamui’s surprise but not bothersome appearance- having soothed his frayed nerves from the afternoon, he felt downright charitable.

He marked his page, making a big to-do of it with rustling pages and clicks of his tongue, before he said, “ _Well,_ if you’re going to be here, I _suppose_ you can share this with me.” He fussed with his pocket for a moment, Kamui’s eyes widening once he produced the item from within it to the lantern glow.

“No way.”

“Yes way.” Leon grinned, brandishing a gold paper-wrapped bar of chocolate. “I found it digging through all those crates. It might be a _bit_ dusty, but if you wanna complain about it, you can find your own chocolate.”

“Man, just shut up and gimme some.”

“Alight, alright, pushy.”

Kamui’s face melted into pure bliss as he stuffed two of the squares Leon gave him into his mouth the moment they touched his fingers. Leon sat back, smirking as he nibbled on his own square of candy as the mercenary then proceeded to moan gratuitously. A sudden satisfaction surged in the archer’s chest, filling up like a warm liquid between his ribs.

Kamui sighed, looking at his hands once he’d eaten the last piece, almost sad but mostly content. “I can’t believe you found that.”

“Right? Lucky me.”

He met Leon’s eyes with a small grin, licking his thumb. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

Leon pushed the rest of his piece of chocolate in his mouth, shrugging. Breaking what remained of the bar in two, he handed half to Kamui, who immediately looked away in favor of all but snorting down the rest of it. Leon was tempted to do the same thing. Against his better judgement, he did the exact same thing.

And then proceeded to choke on it. Sputtering, chocolate drool dripped from the corner of his mouth as he pounded his chest, willing his chocolate to either dislodge itself from his person or to melt before it quite literally killed him. Kamui shivered with laughter across from him all the while, but his giggles were cut off by a sudden gag, and then he was in the midst of a choking fit as well.

For several moments, both men sat there, hacking up their lungs and disrupting the ease of the evening as they attempted not to die. Leon pounded his chest one more time, the homicidal candy finally taking its cue to slither down his throat. He sucked in a deep breath and coughed again once his throat was clear, blurry buds of light dancing in his vision, it only occurring to him then, now that he was out of danger, to check on the mercenary.

Kamui had his head tipped all the way back, chugging from the wine bottle with both hands, his throat pounding and constricting as he gulped his way back to life. Ripping the bottle away from his mouth, he melted back against the chair, chest heaving. When his eyes wandered up to meet Leon’s, he smiled weakly, directing his gaze then downward and flipping a single-fingered gesture in the direction of the paper candy wrapper, where it had fallen to the floor.

“ _Un-called_ for.”

Leon burst into giggles with such a harsh suddenness he was hiccupping almost instantly. His book had tumbled off his lap during the coughing fit, and he could feel the stickiness of his drool on his chin, and though he felt he probably looked like a maniac, he was laughing so hard he couldn’t help it. Kamui was grinning widely as Leon all but dissolved in his chair. When Leon came down from the high, he noticed that the mercenary indeed no longer had blood in his teeth, or under his nose, or anywhere else he could see.

As they quieted down, the sounds of the rain slowly filled in the gaps that their choking and laughter had left in the tranquility of the war room, but the sound was lighter, more distant, as if it had begun its journey onward but lingered just enough to be a reminder of the power it wielded over the land under it now.

Feeling the steadiness return to his heartbeat, Leon counted the raindrops that rolled down the windowsill into the puddle. For every third beat, a drop trickled in.

A small puddle of rainwater had collected under one of the open windows, the slim track of water slithering determinedly over the stone intent on reaching the closest of the trifecta of rugs. Leon sucked in a breath through his teeth, and scooped up his book from the ground to shield it from the oncoming stream, aware its arrival was still far off but weary of the possibility all the same.

Kamui took another swig of his wine, and sighed.

“Hey.” He spoke up suddenly, voice still a little gravely from laughing. “There’s something I wanted to say. About earlier.”

“What?” Leon asked, still counting the beads of rain that overran the sill, dripping over.

Kamui coughed. “I mean. I wasn’t trying to say anything earlier about… It’s not a big deal, about it.” He sniffed loudly, drawing Leon’s attention from the window. The mercenary’s fingers jumped nervously over each other, like children in a game. “I just wanted to say, I don’t care which way the wind blows for ya.”

Leon wasn’t really sure if he should’ve been perplexed or affronted by the course this conversation was taking, but a noncommittal noise wormed its way up from the back of his throat before he could really decide. “Gee. I’m happy to inform you I don’t really care, but thanks anyway.”

“Don’t be like that. I mean, there’s been some guys I’ve… looked at that way.”

“Looked at?” Leon deadpanned.

“I mean, I’ve only ever been with women, but, you know, there’s been guys I was curious about.”

Leon looked at him. Kamui was slouched back in his chair, eyes grazing the ceiling. The bottle hung from his long fingers, grip light but firm.

He did not appear to be drunk. The archer searched for any sign that this might be the case, and that these were just the words of a jammering drunk, but found none. He was sober enough to understand what he’d said. Something in Leon revolted in the realization that Kamui’d done it again, giving away from trivial detail about his life without solicitation, and then revolted again once he’d dissected it.

“Soooo… what? Is that supposed to mean something to me? So desperate for company, you’ll take anyone?” He snapped, panic rising within him in unprecedented waves, his body feeling dangerous and alive, like it was under attack. “Or, what, _I’m_ so lonely and pathetic because Valbar doesn’t return my feelings, _I’ll_ take anyone? Is that really how you think of me? Because if it is, then I’m sorry I ever gave you that impression.”

Kamui didn’t reply right away, the weight and edge of Leon’s last words hanging like a serrated pendulum in the air. The archer tensed up in his chair, bitterly waiting for him to try and come up with something to slip out his responsibility for the conversation- like he was so good at doing, leaning on anything and everything he could and dancing away before it collapsed underneath him.

Leon could still taste the chocolate on his tongue, the chocolate on his breath overtaking the rain and hay scent that had filled the room with such peace before. Kamui only kept his eyes trained on the ceiling, heedless to Leon’s silent fuming.

And when his mouth finally did open, he said, rather tiredly:

“You’ve… really never listened to a single world I’ve ever said, have you?”

His words drive a sudden spike of frigid guilt through Leon’s stomach. He can’t reason it away, and can’t stop himself from snapping back, “Have you?”

The beat of silence that follows is as hollow as Leon feels. It wasn’t the echoing cavity that Celica’s effervescence carved out in his chest, but rather the duller, dimmer thrum of self-centered disappointment, and he can’t decide if this hurts worse.

The mercenary’s tone was low when he replied, “That’s rhetorical.”

Leon sniffed. “It _is_ rhetorical.”

Kamui’s gaze slowly drifted down from the ceiling, but it was only to look at the wine bottle in his hand. By the disappointed look on his face, he must not have liked what he saw.

“I’d say you’re impossible, but you know yourself so much better than I do. So,”

Leon didn’t like the way he said that, like he was surrendering. The icy feeling was still lodged in Leon chest, and it was a hard thing to speak around. “Yeah. It’s a blessing, and a curse.”

“I bet.” The mercenary admonished quietly, draining the last few drops of alcohol from his drink. “At least, at the end of the day, we know ourselves.”

Kamui set the bottle down on the floor, and Leon felt like he should’ve said something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I somewhat feel the need to discuss some of the subject material in this chapter. For as big a deal as having a completely openly gay character in FE (yes there was a Heather from RD, but I technically count her as the first openly lesbian character) I wanted to super downplay the fact in the world of this fic. In Echoes, Leon is abundantly gay all the freaking time, and no one makes a big deal out of it. Or any deal out of it. At all. It’s just a thing that exists, and I wanted to portray that open-mindedness with my portrayal of the SOV world. Still, that doesn’t mean it’s a complete write-off, subject-wise. 
> 
> I’ve decided for my writing purposes (at least in this fic. Spoiler, I have a one-shot modern day fic in the works as well) that I’m writing Kamui as hetero-flexible in terms of sexuality. Knows he likes the ladies, and might have had some interest in a few select dudes. I’ve been writing him like this for the entirety of the fic, from chapter one; though there haven’t been many instances where it’s been apparent, the most blatant example was during his conversation with Atlas in chapter 7, Kamui totally checks out Atlas while he’s cutting wood. Stops talking, just sits there, and watches him cut wood. Yes, I wrote it to come off that way. You weren’t crazy for thinking that beforehand.
> 
> And, of course, we all know that yes, he was totally hitting on Leon. Every time. Even if Kamui didn’t realize he was. Cuz he's an oblivious one like that.
> 
> \+ More on Leon’s dynamic with Celica! I feel it’s a very complicated thing, and I’ll get more into it in later chapters, but I am touching on it now. I’m still trying to untangle the intricacies of it myself.


	13. Eyes to the East

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At some point in time, Kamui had come to the conclusion that he had spent more of his life walking westward than any other direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW thank you all for your continued support of this story. I know I left y’all high and dry for like four months, gomen, haha, but I’m very happy to be back working on this story. I know that whenever I try to propose a schedule, I immediately fail to deliver upon it, but LEGIT, I’m aiming for some time during the last week (bc of my ever changing work schedule) of every month. I’m going to stick to this schedule if it kills me. And it hopefully gives everyone something to look forward to at the end of every month.
> 
> p.s. full disclosure, I’ve been writing the last two chapters listening to desert RPG music, it is so nice 10/10 would recommend to enhance the desert experience; we’re also nearing the end of the desert arch of this story! Three more chapters to go!

At some point in time, Kamui had come to the conclusion that he had spent more of his life walking westward than any other direction.

The summer trails of the migration routes (the longest part of the nomads’ annual journey) had been a largely westward affair, and though it had also been at a southward angle, the last weeks of the summer season, arguably his favorite, were spent walking entirely west.

East- back then- was the direction of winter, of the gold flat grasses of the plains giving way to the steep chilly might of the mountains. Eastward was the rock-lined seas, of the sun rising early, and the end of the world, as of what Kamui knew it to be.

East -now- was the direction of sand, of hills and valleys and endless skies of sand. Eastward was gold and blue and white, scorching sun, humidity from the recent rain- everything good in the world, as far as Kamui was concerned. Though it wasn’t a stretch to say he was inadvisably enamored with the landscape. Through hot days, mercurial nights, the biting of sand fleas, and a lack of civil comforts, Kamui was nothing if not a forgiving lover in the face of the desert’s cruelty.

The surge of the sand seas was particularly wily today, new plains and crevasses built and ravaged in the aftermath of the recent weather, the members of Celica’s entourage journeying through the dunes ever eastward.

“Kamui, right?”

The mercenary perked up at hearing his name, his eyes following the sound of the voice to its originator. Downward.

The skies were no less blue, even after the downpouring of rain the past few nights, but the columns and citadels of clouds that towered in the sky did make some effort to mask the ground from the burn of the Pegastym sun. Nevertheless, the shine of the Originator’s blond hair wasn’t dulled by the lack of exterior light.

He only came up to about Kamui’s shoulder, broad in frame and in smile. The mercenary rescued from the desert fort’s dungeon.

“Yeah? You’re that Jesse guy.” Kamui responded, earning a grin from the other mercenary for his recognition. Kamui crossed his arms and continued, “I heard you tried to break out a girl out of Grieth’s stronghold. That’s pretty gutsy, how much did you get paid to rescue her?”

Jesse’s smile faltered a bit. “I wasn’t getting paid. I just did because I wanted to.” He asserted, as if perplexed that that had been the first thing that popped into Kamui’s mind when fair maidens were involved. What he wouldn’t know was that fair maidens didn’t really pop all that often into Kamui’s mind anyway.

“Why?” he asked.

Jesse thumbed his chest, and boasted with a grin, “Because I’m a free man! And I can do whatever I like- usually it revolves around gold and girls, but playing the hero doesn’t feel too bad either.”

Kamui couldn’t help grinning at that. “You’re a funny kinda guy, Jesse. But I won’t cast stones where I stand the chance of gettin’ hit too.”

Jesse grinned madly back, thumping Kamui on the shoulder. “My man! Hey, would you mind listening to something for a second? I got this thing going on, and I need to tell someone.”

“Jesse, I like you, but if this is about rescuing some girl just so you can get tail, count me out.”

“Hey, just hear me out!”

Kamui laughed, and held his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m listening.”

He almost seemed to radiate light with his permission, the muted glow of the sun paltry in comparison to Jesse’s enthusiasm. He rubbed his hands together, clapped them once, and gently pulled Kamui closer to him by the scarf. The hand not wrapped around the fabric reached for the eastern horizon, fingers scraping the sky. “I’ve had this idea- a dream, actually- for forever, really. A country, where everyone is free to live… free! No nobles, no commoners, everyone for themselves. Whattya think?”

Kamui regarded him mildly. “I think it’s a swell idea. What’s this got to do with me though?”

“It’s got everything to do with you, my friend! The thing about this kingdom is that it’s run by mercenaries. A kingdom for mercenaries! The Mercenary Kingdom!”

“Huh. And how’s this kingdom supposed to work? I mean, I’m just a simple guy, but what’s a kingdom without nobles, commoners, or even a king gonna do?”

“I’m still working out the specifics, but it’ll have to start with getting some land- where that will be, I’m not really sure- but then we’ll all have to pool some money together so we can get it off the ground-“

“And you’ve lost me.”

“What, why?” Jesse balked, his speech screeching to a halt.

He still had him by the scarf, so Kamui couldn’t make his body do much more than lean away from him. “I’m not much of a gambling man, but even then, I’m not crazy about tossing in with a buncha other mercs and only maybe getting something out of it. Sorry.” He was suddenly very wary of the satchel that he carried all his gold in being on the same side of him that Jesse walked on, and he tried to lean even farther way.

Jesse wasn’t having any of it, and reeled him back like a fish on a pole. “You say that, but it’ll be more lucrative with all of us working together, not to mention we’ll be able to handle bigger jobs with more of us. And we’ll all be working together, with people just like us. Have you ever been in a mercenary band? It’s basically a family. We could make something like that, only on a bigger scale!”

“I uh… had something like that when I was younger. Wasn’t bad, but also wasn’t really my thing.” Kamui walked nearly at a slant now, and Jesse had realized, having a good grin over it.

“Okay, but you have to admit,” He tried reasoning again, attempting to guide Kamui back to an upward standing position- which he fought with a smile now, making Jesse lose his balance and snicker- and only succeeded in laughing at their mutual attempts to derail each other. Jesse took a deep breath, trying to wrest the conversation back his way. “The prospect of bigger, higher paying jobs sounds pretty good! Haven’t you thought about what you want to do after this is all over?”

“Maybe.” Kamui chuckled, but something rose up in his throat immediately afterward, stifling the remaining lightness in his lungs. He lifted his eyes to the weak sunbeams overhead, lost in the surges of Pegastym rainclouds. “But ya know, this whole grand journey Celica’s on, it’s to end a lot of the fighting going on. Say all of this works out exactly like she wants, where’s all these jobs gonna come from?”

There was a beat of silence that followed his question, one Kamui would have liked Jesse to fill with an answer that he didn’t really expect him to have. When none came over the crunches of their boots on the sand, Kamui sighed and said, “It’s a great thing to think about, but if it’s gonna be rough going for the lot of us, I’d rather take my chances on my own.”

Jesse sighed to himself, and let go of his scarf. Kamui returned to his center of balance naturally. Jesse ran a dejected hand through his hair. “Ha…you’ve got a point there. Woof, you sound like Saber.”

“You talking to Saber ‘bout this too?”

“Nah. You’re the first person I’ve told.”

“I’m flattered.”

Jesse shook his head and whistled, a single low chirp, then put a hand on his hip. “Man, Saber’s a big deal in the business. Haven’t you heard all the stories told about him?”

Kamui shrugged. “I’m not much of a gossip.”

“I want him to consider the idea. Hell, I want this to be _more_ than just an idea. That’s why I wanted to run it by you first- thought you’d be the sort to jump on it, honestly.” Jesse looked at him then, a sort of bare expression on his face. He didn’t look altogether shattered at Kamui’s disinterest in his idea- which Kamui had half expected him to- but clearly hadn’t been expecting this particular opinion from him.

He felt like he should cut him some slack, offering a small smile in an attempt to recapture the lightness of the faded sun. “Like I said, it’s a fine idea. Just not for me.” And then Kamui shrugged again, “I don’t tend to stay in places too long.”

It was the generic excuse he leaned on for everything, but it never stopped being an excuse because it was always true. But it didn’t seem like such an excuse when Jesse smiled at him with a wide, tooth-filled grin.

“I hear that. The whole reason I became a mercenary was because I felt the same way!” Jesse nodded, understanding ringing clear in his voice. He reached for Kamui’s scarf again, tugging at it in a friendly gesture before letting go and stepping in front of him, walking ahead of Kamui backwards so that they were face to face. “But I’m going to ask you about it again, after I figure out some things. I’ll convince you yet!”

“I’m sure you’ll try.”

Jesse snorted, flashing him one last grin before turning and walking past Kamui to join their comrades behind them.

Kamui watched him go. And then he was walking alone again.

This morning when they set out, Kamui had found himself in the middle of their traveling party; more accurately, he less _found_ himself there and more _actively stayed_ right there. Rather than be in the front – where he would hover when he was feeling introspective and could ingest the vastness of the desert in its fullness- or the end – bringing up the tail of the party with Valbar, chatting with him and Leon when Leon was feeling generous and only mildly confrontational; Kamui found his current position in the party fitting, seeing as he was avoiding both extremes today.

Somewhere ahead of him two forms bobbed up and down intermittently, heads rising above the knitted forms of the rest of the party like bumps in fabric as they jumped. The heads were pink and purple prospectively, and looked to be arguing. What Mae and Leon were fighting about, or why they were hopping up and down as they did, Kamui wouldn’t even hazard to guess.

Somewhere behind him a rough groan and booming laugh resounded colorfully off the sand, a breathier chuckle following them both and serenading them. The voice of the groan mumbled something about more wine and the first laughter’s owner made an inquiry of the second laughter’s throat. Jesse had found Saber in a typical Saber Mood, and Valbar was playing along, heedless and jovial as always.

It seemed like Kamui was the sole body making up the middle section of the party, creating a sort of cinched waist to the group, clusters of comrades in front of him and behind, chuckling and groaning together. Left as he was- stuck in the middle, avoiding things- Kamui wasn’t much in the mood for thinking about anything in particular, most of his thoughts turning to noodles halfway through the process, but he was in the mindset to ponder. Pleasantly, he turned over in his mind ponderings about Jesse’s crazy dream.

Jesse had gotten something right- it was so wild of an idea, the near guarantee of adventure, that it almost made Kamui want to say _to hell with it,_ and just go all in. His commitment to detachment was mostly authentic, but the enchanting ache of his wanderlust hardly left him one to turn down adventure.

 _I’ll think about it_ , Kamui decided. If Jesse was promising him another consultation anyway, what was the harm in entertaining the thought? Even if Kamui would ultimately decide to simply go his own way after the debts were settled and the gold was paid. Like always.

It was sort of a shame. Historically, when Kamui finished a job, he’d blow a good chunk of change on forgetting his name for a few days or weeks, then go off and find a new one. If he even decided to toss in with Jesse and his crazy scheme, would there be enough gold left over to do that? It felt like an important thing to consider. A bunch of mercenaries stuck together in any sort of space without liquor sounded about as fun as a necrodragon parade.

Kamui’s eyes drifted to the clouds, and within their nimbus shapes, he briefly pondered what horrors a necrodragon parade might entail. He was in the middle of imagining giant rotting lizards wearing beaded hats when a stark grey shape floated by overhead, and Kamui’s attention was drawn. Upward.

Memories of that day on the beach at the Seabound Shrine were too close for comfort (even overlapped with the new image of undead dragons in festive headwear), but the momentary cause for panic was quickly relieved. Hovering in the air above the sectioned middle of the group the forms of airborne equines trotted through the sky, casting their shadows on the group below.

The silhouettes of each rider were dark as they eclipsed the sun, the details lost to the finer edges of the sky. Kamui watched them for a time, the elegance of the huge creatures the sisters rode evident even as the wings they flew on seemed as delicate as paper in comparison. While they had primarily herded sheep, Kamui’s family had also owned many horses, and even two Pegasai. The Pegasai had been used for scouting ahead and keeping an eye out for danger. Kamui supposed that was what Celica was having them do as well.

Content to go back to minding his own business, Kamui dropped his gaze from the sky. But soon again the dark shape of an airborne creature was sliding over him, and this time it seemed to be coming closer. Looking skyward yielded that the creature was in the process of descending, just above the group now. The Pegasus came to hover a bit above the sand, its long elegant wings beating in slow, strong strokes to keep itself in place. In its saddle sat one of Celica’s most recently collected strays, the sister with the blue hair. Catria.

She seemed to be absorbed with something in her lap, taking both hands off the reigns to fiddle with it. She paid no heed to anything else, not even Kamui when he blatantly watched her do so for a solid minute.

Curious and bored with minding his own business, he decided to bother her.

“Hey there.”

Her head lifted up, searching for the sound for a moment before peering downward and finding it. “Yes? Oh, it’s you. Hello.”

“How’s it going up there? See anything interesting?”

“Just miles of desert and the occasional rock. Not exactly riveting.”

“I bet.”

Catria nodded once and went back to messing with the item in her hands. He couldn’t exactly see what is was from his vantagepoint on the ground, but the scuffling serenade of papers shuffling together was a fair enough indicator of what it might be. She was still completely engrossed in it, ignoring everything else.

Kamui, never the one to take a hint, went on and asked, “Say, where is it exactly ya ladies come from again?”

“We hail from across the sea. From the Kingdom of Macedon.” A stronger, higher voice answered, descending into the conversation, her Pegasus coming to glide alongside Catria’s. Palla’s long green hair flew behind her, curling in waves like silk blown by the desert breeze, and flying next to her sister, it was difficult to tell them to be siblings.

Catria’s mouth had been open to answer when her sister had interrupted, but her expression remained neutral as she covertly slipped whatever she’d been messing with into her saddlebag. “Palla, Est, and I serve in her majesty’s Pegasus knights, the White Wings.” She blinked suddenly, and then amended, “Ah, rather Palla and I still serve. Est retired a short time ago.”

Kamui smirked at them. “Archanea huh? Long way from home.”

Palla’s eyes lit up, the ghost of pleasant surprise lurking in her moss green pupils. “You know of our home? Many of the Valentians we’ve met are aware of the continent, but not of the countries it’s comprised of. Unless…” She quirked an eyebrow, “You’re no Valentian.”

“You caught me.”

Catria had been observing him quietly and cocked her head at his admission, like a sleek blue bird. “I have not seen any Valentian that appeared such as you do, but I didn’t want to assume.”

Palla nodded, her expression turning critical. “We’ve seen very little of Valentia, and what we have seen has largely been deplorable. How can this country- Zofia, was it- function such as it does? Your government is much wanting.”

“Oh, Palla, Macedon was hardly perfect either. At least not until her majesty took the throne.” Catria gently allayed her sister with a small smile and a shake of her head, before turning back to Kamui. “Our lady, Queen Minerva, had struggled many years with her brother for power, amidst the wars that were also raging at the time. Things have calmed down since then. I suppose what we’ve seen of Zofia is largely the same of what betook our homeland.”

Kamui shrugged. “I couldn’t say. I just work here.”

Palla’s face quirked into a grin and she raised a hand to cover her mouth, like she was holding back a snort. “Tell me then, mercenary. Where do you hail from? I recognize your accent now, but I can’t quite place it.”

He smirked, waggling a finger. “Think north.”

“There’s quite a bit north of Macedon.” Catria said, as if thinking aloud.

Palla seemed disenchanted at being forced to play a game, but she lifted her head and participated all the same. “Well you’re certainly not from Dohlr. But there’s also Gra, Altea, Khadein, and…” She paused, eyebrows rising. “Ah. Your accent. You’re of the plains, are you not?”

“Born and bred. I lived in the capital for a while though too.”

“How curious. Were you aware of the fate of your homeland?”

“Fate? Nah. I haven’t been home in years.”

“I see.” Palla’s voice spoke mutedly of surprise, but her serene expression covered it well. She smiled kindly. “If you ever would care to learn, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Sure.”

If any of them could sense Kamui’s insincerity, two of them pretended they didn’t.

“Do you have any siblings of your own?” Catria asked. “You’ve heard of our struggles, and there are only three of us sisters.”

“I’m the second of four.”

“I’m told that the clans of the plainspeople are made of large families, or at the very least, they act like family.” Palla ascertained.

Kamui nodded. “Sounds about right. I still don’t think I’ve met all the cousins that used to travel with us yet. Each of my parents had about a dozen siblings each, plus my grandparents, their siblings, their grandparents, and then _their_ siblings.”

Palla smiled. “My, my. And there are days when it feels like just having two sisters is two too many.”

Catria’s arm snaked out to shove her in the side, Palla exploding in giggles as she danced her Pegasus away. The two traded shoves back and forth, giggling away until Palla had to sink lower in the air to escape Catria’s attacks. Triumphantly, the middle sister hung above them, grinning.

Palla ambled her Pegasus more towards Kamui, chuckles still lingering in her throat. “But that’s commendable. Family is an important thing to you. We understand this. We have no parents, and for the longest time the three of us were all we had.”

Catria’s shadow shifted overhead and she came to rejoin them, closer to the ground now. She was cocking her head again, cornflower eyes studying Kamui. “You said ‘used to’. Did something happen? Is that why you travel with us now?”

Her curious gaze was nothing if not sincere, and the pulse of dread that usually lobbed at him when he spoke of his past had, bizarrely, kept its distance in this instance. The detached feeling that normally covered him like an itchy rug was also lessened. It was an odd sensation- like the comfort of sitting down after having walked for a long, long time-, different but not at all unpleasant, and it felt like no matter what Kamui was about to say on the subject, his actions would be judged honestly. The same sort of feeling he got when he talked about his past with Leon.

“You could say that.” Kamui answered, scratching the back of his neck. There might have been a flea there, but he would never hold that against his beloved desert. “We were herders, and another clan pushed us out of our migrating lands. That far north, there’s only so much plainsland before you hit the mountains. So, then we moved to the capital to try to make it here. I wasn’t a fan, so one day I just left.”

“You left your entire family behind? Why?” The surprise was back in Palla’s eyes, but this time it was openly so.

“I’m still a nomad at heart, I guess.” Kamui reasoned, but it didn’t feel as accepted as it had with Jesse. “And I’m not much of anything else.”

Palla’s expression didn’t change, but her voice did. “How sad.” The judgement was honest, as he expected.

“Surely you miss them?” Catria’s expression, in turn, appeared somber, as sad as an expression he had ever seen on her usually composed countenance.

“Surely.” Kamui replied, but there was less certainty in his insincerity this time. There was something warm and vulnerable taking refuge in his chest at the moment, something susceptible to the comfortable indifference that normally resided there, two creatures naturally at odds with each other being forced to share the cave of his ribs; neither of which he particularly wanted to deal with at the moment. If it wouldn’t go away, Kamui decided for his sanity’s sake to feed it something other than his own attention.

It was morbid curiosity, but he probed, “I know you must miss your sister, too, but I have to ask… has this all really been worth it? Having to travel so far from home, getting roped into all this war business? Aren’t you mad at her?”

Catria bowed her head in accord, but also held her spine up a little straighter. “You make a good point, but for everything that has happened, I know it will all be worth it once we see Est again. I would gladly make the journey here a second time, if given the option. I just simply wish it hadn’t have to be this way.”

“Est is… a free spirit, ironically. She can be such a handful, but no matter what happens or what she does, I am her big sister, and wouldn’t hesitate to come to her aid.” Palla agreed, strong and assured, the fervent figurehead for her little family. Her voice dipped into a softer, but no less passionate, register as she continued, “Being family allows you to forgive some things you couldn’t otherwise.”

Kamui sighed, and it was the last exhale of the wind before it abandons a ship out at sea. “You gals are something else. I don’t think I could ever do something like that.”

Palla fixed herself straighter, eyes meeting Kamui’s directly. “I miss her dearly. To be this close now is reward for all our efforts.”

“The priestess Celica has been most kind to aid us in our quest.” Catria said. Then she giggled, “Though, you’ve never seen Palla when she wants something. Pirate lord or not, I still think she would have stormed the citadel herself. And have been largely successful at doing so.”

Palla’s eyes hardened for a moment, a tiny, infinitesimal fraction of time that Kamui would have missed if he hadn’t still been looking at her; but soon they liquified in good humor again, and she waved a hand at her sister.

“We’ll see.” She said.

Kamui craned his neck to look at them both the best he could, hand coming up to shield his eyes from the sun, which had suddenly decided to pop out from behind a cloud. “I guess you’ll all be heading home real soon then, yeah? After you find your sister there won’t be much keeping you here.”

The sisters exchanged a look, saying nothing but communicating something nonetheless.

“I suppose.” Palla eventually answered.

“We… haven’t really talked about it much.” Catria admitted, almost apologetically. “I’ll confess, I haven’t really thought much beyond getting Est back.”

Palla looked to her sister again, and then to the eastern horizon, expression reserved but morose. The new sun cast the gold of her uniform and bridle bronze, the patterns of reflected light dancing on her face, a tiny universe on her skin. “I’ve had my eyes trained east since the moment we caught wind of her location. I think I’ve missed nearly every sunset since coming here simply because I couldn’t focus on anything else.”

The way she spoke, it was as if she was just now remembering that the sun was the source of all life, and not Est.

Kamui felt a twinge of something anew in that vulnerable cavity in his chest. “Archanea is also east.”

Palla’s solemn expression broke, and the universe got tangled in her sweeping hair when she chuckled. “Touché!” She sniffed then and closed her eyes. “But I’ve been so focused on going forward, I feel I haven’t taken the time to properly enjoy the journey. It sounds ridiculous- I’m here to rescue my sister- but meeting you all was a such a pleasant surprise. We’ve traveled with others in a very similar situation before, and it was one of the grandest adventures of my life.”

“I too have enjoyed my time with you all, short as it has been. We’re not all so different, Valentian or Archanean.” Catria agreed, earnestly meeting Kamui’s eyes.

He smiled, shrugging casually. “Make sure you tell Celica that. I bet it’d make her happy.”

“We will.” Catria assured.

“You’ll have to make do with us telling you this for the time being, mercenary.” Palla smirked congenially, hands folded in her lap.

There was comfort and ease in the look they exchanged, something altogether that made Kamui happy he’d engaged in this conversation, and that he’d like to have one again. The feeling in his chest warmed happily at the thought, as if it was curling into a ball and settling in against his ribcage, fed and fat and at peace with its den mate for now. Kamui was suddenly very grateful he decided to look upward today.

“The outpost! It’s there! And they’ve spotted us!”

Celica’s high voice rang suddenly out over the dunes. It shattered the calm, scattering the pieces to the sky where the clouds had burned away and the sun bore down again. Through the mirage of heatwaves streaming off the sand, the tall white shapes of columns appeared in the distance, alongside the leggy forms of palm trees and the almost bewildering stark green of fresh grass. The desert Mila temple that served as the southern outpost materialized into existence, and from with it, the purple forms of Greith’s army surged forth.

Celica’s party heaved to life, the sounds of weapons being drawn and of orders being given raucous in the in the shattered remains of the calm that preceded it.

Kamui drew his sword and spared a glance at the sisters above him. To his surprise, Palla was already glancing his way, meeting his eyes again out of the corner of hers and flashing him a smile.

“Eyes forward, mercenary.” Palla instructed, javelin poised and ready to dart into battle. “The enemy awaits!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is basically two of the supports I WISH Echoes had given us. And how they each tug at different parts of Kamui as a person.
> 
> Kamui having an ending with Jesse, but having no canon interaction with him, is so horrible. Like I get how minimalistic they were with supports for authenticity’s sake, but this is still something that should have been rectified. Two supports, MINIMUM per character. But what’s more, Kamui and Jesse are basically two shades of the same person. They have similar personalities, even if Jesse is more optimistic in view and Kamui is more pessimistic (consider this, east vs west, beginnings vs ends). Their outgoing natures, similar backstories, adventurous spirits, and killer smiles make them a really cool pair that not only do I want to experiment more with writing in, but a very natural friendship that should have been taken advantage of by IS.
> 
> Another huge opportunity was missed in not having Kamui support with the White Wings. They are the only four characters in the entire game that come from someplace outside Valentia, and how cool would it have been for them to bond over that? What their opinions are, as outsiders, of the land of Valentia and its people? Especially when you consider the differences in personality between them all, how one person might see a certain aspect as a good thing while the other’s opinion differs. There was just a lot there that was possible, and I don’t think I’ve done it justice, but heck, I tried.
> 
> BTW, I had such a nice time writing Palla, Palla is new Best Girl, spread the word.
> 
> Also, did you really expect me to relieve the tension between Kamui and Leon so quickly? At this point, you all know how I roll. Ain’t nothing gonna happen faster than a snail’s pace. But I’d hazard that despite the miscommunications and drama, their relationship is the strongest it’s ever been. Almost to support level B….


	14. Mistakes Were Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Can I be brutally honest with you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t you love how I can’t stick to a schedule if my life depended on it. 
> 
> This chapter has been a such a long time coming and I? Hope y’all are still on board with me despite all my shit. Part of why this chapter took so long to finish was because of how important it was, and I just wanted it to be absolutely perfect.
> 
> Slight TW for body horror? Sort of, not really? Just warning you anyway?

Leon awoke with a start.

Consciousness flooded his brain, shoving him into wakefulness gasping for air like a drowning man. He coughed, clearing his lungs of the ghosts that like water had threatened to fill them, shaking and heaving, fuzziness clouding his gaze.

When it finally subsided, he saw that the tent was dark, and he blinked, and then blinked again, to make sure his eyes were actually open. He rose up to one elbow and saw then the faint apparition of lantern glow in the distance, the light just enough to give shape to his surroundings.

The silhouetted lump beside him rocked with a snore, and the archer sighed.

Nightmares were a plague of a different age, the chronic illness of a younger Leon, but they always came for him eventually. The last one had ambushed him that night back before they’d taken the desert fort, when he’d found Kamui on watch duty by the fire, bored and sporting enough to play with something equally as dangerous.

That nightmare had been of the usual fodder, however. Likely something stirred up by his heart-to-heart with Genny, nothing Leon hadn’t already seen countless times over the past nine years.

But tonight’s had been different.

He rubbed his face, feeling the hard, sharp bones of his skull press into his hand, and marveled quietly at their solidness. He felt his neck, his hair, his chest, all the way down the ladder-like curls of his ribs, and the urge to cry he’d been swallowing all day came back up, ferocious and bitter as stomach bile.

They had been… beautiful. Skin, clear and fair; hair thick, lustrous and in every color; faces of picturesque features, eyes bright like nothing he’d ever seen before.

But it was the beauty of statues. The perfection of their skin, the cold fire in their gaze, the complete lack of warmth. Of humanity.

They were beautiful, and they were monstrous.

He heard the way their bones snapped, saw the patterns swords cut into their flesh. But he also witnessed the way their heads rose again after their spines were severed, how the cuts they incurred didn’t bleed blood but rather flaked like ash and whispered with pale pink embers. Those beautiful faces, stony behind the feathered they wore, eyes smoldering and open. Eternally open.

 _“What… what are they?”_ Leon had all but whimpered when the last one was slain, asking no one in particular but begging for an answer all the same.

He had shot one in the chest. She had appeared behind him where there had only been desert heat before, and when he shot her, she’d barely flinched.

Fire had burst forth from her gloved hand, and he’d only moments to spare when he somersaulted out of the way. Then she appeared behind him again, and he hadn’t hesitated, firing another arrow, point-blank into her chest this time. It’d pierced the brace of her pauldron, ripped through her clothing, and buried itself to the feather in her breast.

The shredded fabric of her dress had frayed away, leaving the entire left side of her chest exposed, and Leon could see where the shaft of his arrow had plunged into her perfect skin.

Then he’d watched the way the fair surface began to crack and sink into itself.

Black lines raced across her skin, jagged and splintering like broken ceramic, as if she were made of glass rather than muscle and bone. The statue before him shattered in slow time, and he knew she could feel every aching moment of it. He saw it in her eyes, bright as a bonfire until this point, and how they looked when they extinguished.

They weren’t human. That much was sure. But he’d heard them- there had been so many- growl and moan as they fought.

This one though, she cried.

Her eyes turned to cinders and her body barely more than wisps of smoke in the desert wind, she pressed her hands to her face and Leon watched as the bones there dissolved as she cried in agony, _out_ in an awful, distorted voice:

_Please. No._

And then her body collapsed in on itself.

As her remains scattered to the wind, Saber’d wiped his sword off with a scrap of fabric- dusting away the body of one of those unfortunate souls, just like that- and answered, _“Witches. Those were witches.”_

 _“What, in Mila’s name,”_ Boey had croaked, _“Is a witch?”_

 _“Duma fanatics,”_ Saber responded gruffly, stern and seemingly uncomfortable. _“Women and girls who offer up their souls to Him, in exchange for power. Nasty business.”_

 _“WAIT, those were… people?”_ Mae said, aghast.

 _“I’ve never seen such a grisly thing before.”_ Palla added somberly.

Saber’d sheathed his blade, mumbling quietly, _“And I could’a done without ever having to see them again.”_

Celica had joined them then, on stiff legs and with a countenance of fear, hers the only face streaked with actual blood. She had been the one to take on the leader, the mage Sonia.

 _“What… happened?”_ She’d said, voice a delicate thing under the blood that marked her face, asking the question everyone feared the answer to.

Behind her a darkly cloaked shape laid in a heap on the sand, purple hair fanned out around her like feathers. She wore no mask, her face open and bare save for a smearing of blood, and in her ears hung delicate earrings- turquoise and shaped like diamonds. They were beautiful- _she_ was beautiful. Still beautiful, even though the warmth and color would soon leave her skin.

Leon had seen the horrors of battle time and time again, and had had to come to terms with that before. But this had been horror unlike any he’d seen before.

He blinked again, the lingering nightmarish images shaking and spiraling in the darkness of his eyelids. There was no safety in sleep. What would await him there, if not more images of twisted beauty and bloodless carnage? Simply remembering the porcelain perfection of their skin made Leon want to tear his own off in shame. But images of those black, jagged cracks in hers made him want to kiss every flea-bitten, calloused inch of his.

The tent was still dark when he reopened his eyes, and it felt like staring into the void. He turned over in his sleeping bag, watching Valbar’s mountainous shape rise and fall easily with restful sleep. He had been the guiding hand that got Leon through the afternoon, had held him up when his knees threatened to go out and set up the tent and steered him into it when his legs had forgotten how to function altogether.

He would have woken up Valbar without a second thought, but there were no words Leon could put to the way he was feeling right now. This cavernous, sinking feeling that persisted.

He couldn’t stay here, in the dark.

Leon wiggled out of his sleeping bag and unfastened the tent ties, careless with his noise because he knew Valbar wouldn’t wake up. He began to duck out of the tent but doubled back to put on his boots. The dark sand shone like obsidian in the weak light, but with his boots on, Leon could at least pretend that he wasn’t stepping on the bodies of vanquished witches.

Leon and Valbar’s tent was on the eastern end of the oasis where they’d made camp, closest to the desert Mila temple and on the fringes of the spare grass that carpeted it. A handful of other tents dotted the banks of the pond- swollen from the recent rains- that laid center of it all, quiet as the night. If anyone else was having nightmares, they were having them silently.

The archer stood there for a moment, breathing in the cool outside air. He made himself breath slowly, feel the crush and burn of releasing all the air in his lungs before filling them back up. But with every inhale, it felt like he was swallowing pure night, that it was sinking, lower and lower into him and would only come back up if he gave into the urge to cry or vomit.

He felt abysmal. Like the void he’d stared into was inside of him.

Stifling a sniffle, Leon turned abruptly in the direction of the temple.

The desert temple was small, barely an outpost and likely only that because it had already been here when Greith claimed the desert as his. It was a structure consisting of mostly stone pillars, the lantern he’d seen hanging on a hook off one of them, and the outside was austere save for an ornamental carving of the earth goddess in the triangle-shaped panel above the door. In this depiction she didn’t have wings or a tail, and was rather just a beautiful woman carved atop a pile of apples; save for her long, pointed ears, she could have appeared human.

Inside there were but three tiny rooms: the small front foyer, bare and dusty with grit and disuse; an antechamber to the left of it, wooden door closed where Celica and Genny slept (Celica had offered to sleep in the temple almost as if to spare anyone else from having to, Genny volunteering herself to keep her company); and finally, the main worship chamber.

The chamber was a concave semi-circle in shape, the floor made of cracking blue and green mosaic with stairs leading down (rather than up, like they had in the capital’s temple) to the altar. The heady smell of herbs burned the air, and tall white candles flickered in chipped golden candelabras that sat atop the simple stone altar. Behind that towered the goddess herself, sculpted in white stone turned cream-colored by the candlelight. Again, this Mila bore no wings or tail, only a crown and a carved apple, her finer features worn down by sand and time.

She was all but faceless, Leon noticed as came before her and studied this strange depiction of his goddess. It should have felt odd, seeing her stripped of all that made her glorious in the eyes of her followers- so few vestiges of her draconic nature, that what made her holy and exalted- but Leon had always been one to follow blindly when he knew what he followed was worthy of his faith.

Her eyeless face didn’t watch him, but her felt her pointed ears heard him as he exhaled again and sunk to his knees. There was a profound feeling of uncomfortableness as he did, but he clasped his hands, closed his eyes to the ragged shards of mosaic that fractured the floor, and bowed his head to this alien goddess.

Then Leon prayed.

* * *

 

There was little hesitance when the group set out the next morning. They were so close to their destination now, impatience in equal part with dread and fatigue propelled them to cross the last stretches of horizon and finally arrive. There’s nothing to be said that they were leaving behind a graveyard, either.

The witches had all turned to dust, but they’d still had to bury Sonia.

A profound sense of loss hovered over the party as they left the time-worn temple to the desert once more, the tender jubilance that had upheld them all just days before perishing under the sun’s unforgiving rays as so many other things had this journey. The collective mindset of the morning, though unspoken, seemed to be that this was something that could’ve been avoided. That in another life, could have been different.

Jesse seemed to be taking it the hardest, strangely enough. Valbar, the gloriously huge-hearted man he was, kept him company for the better part of the morning into the afternoon. Saber, though still as stoic as he had been yesterday, accompanied them as well.

Leon was feeling only marginally better, having spent some time in the temple last night and then bursting into tears the moment he left. As always, he felt better after crying, and he knew he shouldn’t have been so stubborn about letting the tears get to him, but there was a kind of emptiness that filled him now in their absence.

The sun, as if to spite them all further, had decided that today was the day to end its self-exile among the clouds and brightly peek out from behind the frothy masses. It then proceeded the fry the air with a vengeance, scorching the ground and turning the shifting sands into swathes of minuscule irons that impressed the heat into everything they touched.

Within minutes, Leon was sweating like a pig and feeling just as filthy. Armor, even as light as his, was no match for the sun’s rays, not to mention his underclothes were getting dangerously muggy in certain places that would have been unfortunate not to mention entirely crass to scratch in current company.

But even that became of small consideration once the sun had reached its flaming fingers out and brightened the entire sky, that the true enemy to Leon’s fragile grip on sanity revealed itself.

While the sun had blessed some members of their party with golden tans the likes of gods- Mae and Atlas and even that blasted Kamui- it had decimated the delicate skin of others, Saber and Genny and most notably Leon. His supply of moisturizer (and most of his makeup) had gone the way of the ancients and ducking in Valbar’s towering shadow had only been acceptable for so long before he’d had to start facing the wrath of the sun himself. Flea bites notwithstanding, his skin was the closest to healed it had been since before getting on the blasted boat that set off this whole chain of events, and by the goddess he was not about to lose what little pride he had gained back in the wake of recent events.

A quick look around surmised that Valbar was indeed exactly where Leon had last saw him, trudging alongside Jesse, offering smiles and friendly slaps to the back to the mercenary’s drooping form and indeed too far away for immediate reprieve from the sun. But there was also a part of Leon, though coated in jealousy as it was, that did not want to interrupt them; Valbar had been his consoling hand of positivity and patience when Leon had been distraught. It wouldn’t feel right to rob that from someone else.

And as if to spite his generosity, the sun decided then to brighten ever so more blinding. Leon found himself squinting to even see properly. He was sure it was scrunching his face up in an unflattering imitation of Kamui’s near permanent pinch, and that did not make it any better. Heaven forbid he get tan lines in the form of that.

But as if invoked by his ire, the form of Kamui-as unceremoniously and uncalled for as always- loped into view ahead of him. The mercenary loomed an extra head easily over most of their comrades, damn near impossible to miss though his head was currently dipped down. He seemed to be adjusting his headband, roiling black curls matted at the base of his neck and splayed across his forehead, scarf wound dutifully around his neck despite the smothering heat. Above him floated the Pegasus of Catria, the rider fanning herself in her seat, short bob of blue hair bound back in a tiny ponytail.

They appeared to be chatting about something. Catria was smiling, her usual placid expression replaced by a shy smirk. Kamui waved an elbow at her as he fiddled with his hair, and, incredibly, she laughed. As they talked, her Pegasus beat its wings in long, strong strokes, keeping its massive body aloft, the small bursts of air created disrupting the sand below.

A hard stroke of the creature’s wings cut Catria’s response to the elbow wiggling off, causing a sudden and grand gust of wind that sent Kamui’s hair blowing every which way and nearly knocking him off his feet. Catria covered her face as if to stifle her tremendous smile, but Kamui just tossed his head back with a loud snort, hair and scarf splayed in the dying ripples of the wind.

Something undefinable in Leon prickled at watching them. And then all the brain-power diverted to dissecting that feeling was eclipsed by a sudden idea.

Breaking into a jog, Leon caught up to Kamui, rapping him on the shoulder when he came to walk beside him.

“Let me borrow your scarf?” Leon asked breathlessly, before adding a perfunctory if not a little desperate, “Please?”

Seemingly startled, Kamui blinked once, brows knitted together in a moment of confusion. It struck Leon bizarrely in that moment how unexpected Kamui’s reaction was. What _had_ he been expecting? And then it hit him. That this was the first time Leon had done something like this- called out to Kamui for no reason, other than he needed him.

With this realization running wild in his head, the pause between his question and Kamui’s response felt honed as if to peel Leon’s intentions from his skin, but then the mercenary unwound the yellow scarf from his neck, not missing a single beat as he tossed it unceremoniously over Leon’s head.

The sensation of it, the article _whumped_ into his face, was what brought the archer back from his stupor. What hit him next was that the fabric was as tinged with hay and inhospitable as ever, but Leon was not about to be choosy. Arranging it over his shoulders and looping it around his head to create a hood, it was an effective block for most of the sunlight to keep from hitting his exposed skin. The length of the thing was deceptively long when it wasn’t bunched in the nest Kamui usually kept around his neck, and Leon had to roll it up for it to stay in place.

The whole entity ended up making him look like a living yellow carpet with eyes, but damn if it wasn’t far superior to frying in the sun.

Leon let out a gratuitous sigh, flattening the bulges in the fabric. “Ahh. Much better.”

Kamui chuckled. “Sunburn, huh?”

Leon twisted to look at him (having to turn his whole head to do so covered as it was), poised to mouth off but stopping. Kamui was grinning, long tan fingers back in his hair rigging the headband into place, blithe and unbothered as usual, even with his scarf hanging around someone else’s neck. His dark eyes in their familiar squint as if unencumbered by the sun’s elevating attempts to fry them all red and blind.

Though it was not a recent discovery, it was a recent admission that within the confines of Leon’s mind he could admit to himself how a tiny bit dashing Kamui was- the strong jaw, the hard angles of his body, especially when paired with the newly bronze glow of his skin.

But not today, not with Leon’s already slipping sanity, and not with that dumb smile on the mercenary’s face.

He flicked a hand at him, clicking his tongue. “Oh, don’t you start. Not when you’ve been graced by the golden sheen of the gods yourself.”

With his headband reaffixed, Kamui lowered his arms, shrugging and leaning backward with another chuckle. “I like the sun. The sun likes me.”

Leon rolled his eyes dramatically, threading his fingers through a loop in the scarf, finding himself flustered for some reason. “Yes, well. That’s so very nice for you.”

Kamui didn’t reply, and when Leon turned to look at him again, his gaze was trained on Leon’s face. He studied him for a long moment, grin gone and brow uncreased. Behind him, Catria’s face peered down from above, head cocked in concern. Leon had actually forgotten she was there.

By the time Leon’s eyes had wandered back to Kamui’s, the mercenary was turning away, hands shoved in his pockets.

“… I really don’t know about you sometimes.” His voice was light, but there was something darker behind it Leon couldn’t place.

He was immediately confused. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Kamui opened his mouth but paused. Then he shook his head, lifting his face to the horizon. “Exactly what I said.”

Leon really didn’t know what to say to that.

But then again, he hadn’t really known what to say for several days now. They hadn’t talked, not really, since that night in the desert fortress. And while it didn’t seem like they had been avoiding each other, there was something different about Kamui when Leon had interacted with him since then; nothing as dramatic or concrete as a wall between them, something more like the wire fences farmers put around their chicken coops, an annoying tripping hazard at most but nonetheless dividing and tangible.

And it bothered Leon more than he cared to admit. An annoyance he had always been but being on good terms with Kamui had no downside in their current state of affairs. Suddenly finding himself on the other side of the fence once again was as jarring as it was frustrating to find all the progress Leon had made undone by a miscommunication. Kamui was evasive to pin down on a good day, let alone when he was purposely playing at being aloof.

And now here Leon was, finding himself in the position Kamui had always filled in their silly dynamic: the one who appeared and slouched up and assumed the other would accept his attention. Always quick to chastise others for assuming, but Leon had done it himself.

Perhaps it was the heat, or just simply the fact Leon’s emotions were already in turmoil, but this wasn't him- doubting himself and trying to play like this hadn't affected him at all when in actuality that couldn't have been farther from the truth. And Leon didn’t want to play this game anymore.

Straightening his back and rising to his full height, Leon asked, “Can I be brutally honest with you?”

Kamui’s expression grew complex again. “Brutally hon-… brutally… okay?”

A reaction Leon had expected this time. Taking a bit of solace in that, he took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the likelihood he was about to make things worse before they got better.

He then cleared his throat, stared Kamui dead in the face, and said, “I despised you when we first met. Seriously, hating your guts didn’t begin to describe how I felt about you back then.”

The mercenary’s whole face shuddered to a stop for a moment, as if processing exactly what Leon had just said, before it hardened. “Wow tell me how you really feel. No really, you don’t have to be gentle with me.”

“Don’t take it personal,” Leon shook his head, and offered a congenial flip of a hand. “I had my reasons.”

“Fine. You had your reasons. So, what then?”

“My reasons- as I was about to detail before you had to get your two silvers in-  were deeply personal. And for good or ill, you already knew part of it.”

Kamui cocked his head, looking no less affronted but nodding once. “This about Valbar’s family then?”

Leon swallowed, feeling the fissures in his confidence already beginning to widen. “Yeah. I… was feeling really messed up about it. Not just because I couldn’t meet them, but because I felt like I wasn’t enough for them. To like, avenge them.” He was sounding more bitter than he would have liked, but if he wasn’t cutting Kamui any slack, then he wouldn’t do it for himself either. “I would follow him to the ends of the world, and still Valbar didn’t think I was enough to help him. At least, at the time this is how I felt.

“This was important to us, I hope you understand. And then we just happened to find you, and Valbar was suddenly all gung-ho about hiring this random guy we’d met at some tavern.” Leon snorted, memories of that night back in Flostym coming back to him with all the friendliness of the yearly flu. “You know, you really didn’t make that great of a first impression, right?”

“Hey, that lizard came out of nowhere!” Kamui defended.

“You got so scared of a _lizard_ that root beer shot out of your nose.”

“It was my first night back from a two-week bender. Of course I was drinking root beer.”

“Root beer wasn’t the issue!” Leon shouted, feeling like he had tripped and fallen face-first over the chicken fence. “You made Valbar laugh! We were just sitting there, Valbar grieving the loss of everyone he held dear, and you just went and shot root beer out of your nose and you _made him laugh._ ” His voice had grown shrill and it was only then that he had realized Catria had floated away at some point, and now without any eyes on him but Kamui’s he felt himself truly incapable of anything but breaking down. “He’d been crying for days, and no one and nothing could make him do anything otherwise. Then he got so angry he could barely feel anything else at all, and that was even worse. But you… you’d made him laugh, after everything that had happened. And I… couldn’t.”

All his tears were gone, spent for the unfortunate souls of the ones who’d sworn themselves to one way and nothing else, but Leon’s voice cracked in abject sorrow as he put words to the realization he had done much the same. “And then Valbar decided to hire you. Just like that. It was clear you were just in this for the money, and that really pissed me off. You had no personal investment in this, so you had no right be come along. But,” He sighed, breath catching on the word and his lungs steadying themselves. “I think I was just more upset at myself than anything, for not being strong enough to stand by Valbar’s side in his time of need. I was angry, and I took it out on you.” The image of Celica’s face the last time they spoke flashed through his mind, void of malice, empty eyes of patience and judgement. “I do it more often than I care to admit.”

His heart beat was a physical throb in his throat, but Leon could not swallow it even after he had finished speaking. It was the only sound in the white noise that the archer’s thoughts had degenerated into.

Once again, a paused stretched between them, excruciating in that Leon knew he had no choice but to calm down and wait for it to end.

It was only after his breathing had steadied and he confirmed that all of his guts had been well and truly spilled that Leon risked another look at Kamui.

Inexplicably, the expression he wore was neutral. 

“Is this the part where you apologize or something?” Kamui ascertained bruskly.

Leon’s heart kicked back into overdrive, thumping through his body with the force of a stampede. “I AM apologizing! _Listen_ to me for once!”

Kamui was quiet for one eternal moment longer, Leon’s heartbeat so forceful it threatened to break his ribs. And then a grin broke out across the mercenary’s face, lips curling as he smashed a hand over his face with a snort.

“You’re shit at apologizing.” His smile spoke through the words, despite how much of it was concealed behind the cover of the hand he took refuge in.

And hidden in that smile, forgiveness.

Relief shuddered through Leon like a tidal wave. “But I mean it. You know I mean it.”

Kamui’s hand shifted from covering his eyes to just the bottom portion of his face, crooked nose poking out from between his middle and pointer fingers, expression still inextricable to pick apart from behind the buffer. 

He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing before he closed his eyes and relented. “Yeah. Yup.”

With his admission, it felt like a hole had been punched through Leon and everything that had stagnated within him the past few days was finally able to flow out.

“Besides, you know. You already know I don’t hate you. I don’t hate you at all.” Leon sighed, picking at a stray string on Kamui’ scarf. Kamui nodded, and Leon found his heart swelling in his chest.

He ducked his head, that inexplicable flustered feeling coming back full force. Extricating the errant string from the fabric with a sharp tug, it made for the perfect distraction to keep Leon from having to meet Kamui’s eyes when he asked, “So? Don’t you have anything to say to me?”

Kamui whipped his head back to face him, jaw agape. “Like what? You’re the one apologizing to me.”

“I don’t know! Something you need to get off your chest?” Leon swallowed, unsure himself where exactly he was going with this. He flipped a hand casually to play it off. “You can be honest with me.”

“I… honestly,” Kamui sighed, burying his hands in his pockets, gritting his teeth.

Just as quickly as relief had buoyed him, dread just as quickly plunged him back under the tide of unease. Leon walked his thoughts backward. “Well… how about… I kinda owe you now, don’t I?” He fussed with the scarf, still craving a distraction to keep him hands from going someplace else. When Kamui didn’t reply and Leon’s fixation proved fruitless, he clarified, “Between the whole incident with the rock and today, that is.”

Kamui was still quiet, watching Leon as he toyed with the scarf.

“Yeah. You do.”

“Seriously?” Leon sputtered. “Wha-what about me! You still owe me from Zofia harbor. I told you you weren’t off the hook for that!”

Kamui bowed his head. “Just because you forgot about it doesn’t mean it’s my fault you never called in the favor.” He didn’t sound the least bit concerned.

 “I never figured out what I wanted!”

“Doesn’t cancel out the favor you owe me.”

“You…. You!” Leon knew he sounded indignant, but it was far superior to the dread that had dogged him earlier. Throwing his hands up, he conceded, “Okay! Fine. We each owe each other one favor. Yes?”

“Yeah.” The mercenary nodded amicably. But then he paused, squinting at the skyline as he seemed to ponder something. “Don’t suppose you’re gonna want cheese again? ‘Cuz that’s might be kinda hard to get out here in the middle of nowhere.”

Leon nearly choked. “We’ve eaten nothing but dried jerky and hard cheese for the past several weeks. I can _assure_ you, I don’t want cheese.”

Kamui nodded again, rolling his shoulders back. “Yeah. Me neither.”

Leon couldn’t help the snort that escaped from his throat this time, but Kamui’s returning smirk almost made it worth it.

And as easy as that, Leon felt something tight within himself unraveling. The nerves that had held him together though the past few days, finally at ease.

There was more to be said, and still yet another person to apologize to and more things to apologize for, but Leon’s conscience was clearer now that it had been in some time.

Humming, he stretched his arms up, the tenseness in his joints clicking and popping in relief. The sun felt no less brutal, Kamui’s scarf still itched, Leon still looked like a yellow carpet with eyes and his balls could still use a good scratch, but there was contentment in this moment. Beside him, Kamui was rubbing his nose, remarking at how much sand had come out of it in a tone that could only be described as fond. Leon didn’t try to swallow his laughter this time.

Ahead of them, shifting with the sand was the procession of their party, and the huddled forms of Jesse, Valbar, and Saber ambled into view again. Jesse’s head was still down, golden head bowed somberly to the sun. From where he stood, Leon could hear no more conversation from them, only the scuffle of boots across sand and the clanking of Valbar’s armor.

Watching them, something prodded at Leon anew. “You know… Not that it’s something I actually need, but I kind of want to cheer Jesse up. Valbar has been by his side all day, tirelessly keeping him company! We must help him, surely something must be devastatingly wrong with him if even Valbar is having difficulty.”

Kamui glanced at the trio tramping along in front of them, and grinned. “I might have an idea.” He said slyly.

Cupping his hands around his mouth, the mercenary hollered, “Jesse!” The man lifted his head at his name, raising it to look to the source of the sound. Then- though he had the other man’s attention and they really were less than ten hands from each other- Kamui hollered again, “Wanna play a game?”

“A what?”

“Jesse, I spy with my wee eye-“

“Aw, Kamui… I don’t really feel-“

 “I spy with my wee eye something brown!”

Jesse blinked, looking conflicted, but his eyes were already sweeping left and right, brow creased. “Damn, ah, alright… uh,”

There as a pause as he looked expectantly around, head craning up and down in search of what brown thing Kamui saw. All attending waited patiently, seemingly holding their breath in unison.

After a moment, Jesse’s head rose again. “Hey, is it Saber’s boots?”

“Nope.”

“It’s Saber’s scabbard, then?”

“No, his eyepatch!” Valbar jumped in.

Jesse clapped. “His armor?”

“It’s not actually Saber.”

Jesse snapped his fingers in frustration. Saber said something too low for Leon to hear, and then Jesse said something back that had Valbar chuckling. And then their heads were back on a swivel, searching the ground, the sky- commenting on the sun as if they’d only just recognized its reapperance themselves- taking shots at each other back and forth as they hunted.

Watching the men jabber amongst themselves, Leon couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice as he leaned in conspiratorially to whisper in Kamui’s ear, “I can’t believe this is working.”

The mercenary chuckled, warm breath tickling Leon’s cheek. Leon was suddenly all too aware of this voluntary closeness, and quickly removed himself back to his own space.

When he pulled back, the expression on Kamui’s face was thoughtful, countenance and posture full of his typical languorous ease though the way he held his chin forward bellied something more than what Leon could read from it. “What’s a little game to pass the time? I’d rather think about the colors of stuff more than the other things happening right now, anyways.”

Once again, the odd and somewhat alarming appearance of Kamui’s reason had Leon regarding him with new appreciation. And it had Leon’s own head tipping back, admiring the blue hues and golden streaks of a sky that had been subdued by storms longer than he had anticipated.

Placing a hand to his chin, his lips quirking into a small smile. “Fair.”

The men’s hunting seemingly having reached a standstill, they were now looking each other over again in search of more brown things, and growing more rowdy and ridiculous by the minute.

“The sand?” Jesse tried.

“No.”

“Leon’s scarf… thing?” Saber asked.

Leon scoffed so hard he nearly choked again. Kamui just snickered. “Nada.”

“That rock!” Jesse pointed wildly.

“Uh-uh.”

“ _That_ rock?” Valbar chimed in.

“It’s not a rock.”

“Valbar’s armor?” Leon offered up.

Kamui perked up at Leon’s inclusion, flashing a smile at him. “Nope.”

“Oh!” Jesse’s head swung back around, lifting an item he had apparently pilfered from Saber’s belt- from the look on the mercenary’s face- to the sun. “It’s this canteen, isn’t it?”

Kamui snapped a finger. “Correct.”

A small smile broke out on Jesse’s face, which only widened as Saber forcibly extricated his canteen from his grasp. “Alright! Oh, does that mean it’s my turn then? Ah, alright…” He rubbed his chin, eyes darting about. “I spy with my wee eye… something red.”

Leon groaned. “For the love of the goddess, it better not be Saber.”

Still in the middle of reattaching his canteen to his belt, Saber grumbled, “For the love of the goddess, it better not be me.”

A raucous bout of laughter burst forth from the men, heads thrown back and shoulders slapped as the sound expanded between them all. Leon managed to catch Valbar’s eye as they came down from the high, the knight giving him a wink and a thumbs up from over his shoulder. Leon’s heart felt so full he couldn’t possibly remember how empty he had felt just this morning.

As Jesse, Kamui, and Saber delved into the hunt for Jesse’s Red Something, Valbar slid over to Leon’s side, whapping him on the shoulder in greeting.

“You’re looking better, Leon. Got whatever it was bothering ya figured out?”

Leon’s gaze took itself from Valbar’s, meandering through the dust clouds, fixating on the tall form in front of him. Kamui was too enrapt in the game to notice.

The archer sighed. “Yes, I believe so.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second part of this chapter is meant to mirror chapter 9: Passing Time, in that it is a very similar situation with a ‘shoe is now on the other foot’ connotation. Both chapters deal with assumptions and expectations, this time the subversion of them as Leon tries to go back to where the crack in their relationship began, rather than pretending it hadn’t happened at all. Additionally, where Passing Time could be called a filler chapter, Mistakes Were Made was one of the most important chapters so far.
> 
> Just as a reminder, I’m over on Tumblr @mistressakiraart, posting art and other random FE shit, and the first part of this chapter was actually released as a sneak peek on my blog (which I plan to do that more often) so feel free to come say hi or see what’s up. 
> 
> Thanks again guys, your support through all my sketchiness means the world to me.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Up to It](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15594108) by [Ti_ren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ti_ren/pseuds/Ti_ren)




End file.
